Thorin's First Thundersday of Harvestfall, 1442, Alchemists' guild hall, City of Luminara.

Kaelyn worked in silence, the soft clink of glass and faint bubbling of tinctures the only sounds in her workshop alcove. Before her, five concoctions shimmered under the glowlamps, each in a round-bottomed flask secured by brass rings. She had aligned them in a precise row—like notes in a hymn—each hue resonating with intent.

The first was holy water, radiant and almost weightless. It glowed with soft white light, like moonshine caught in a tear.

Next came vitriol, blue and transparent as glacier melt. Even untouched, the liquid fizzed faintly, like a drink still alive with carbonation.

The third flask held a viscous poison, dark lavender and slick, clinging to the glass like ink to parchment.

Then came the rust-red paralytic agent, faintly granular, smelling of oxidised iron and dried leaves.

Last was the blackness of blindness oil, so opaque it seemed to consume light itself.

She worked with deliberate care, lowering arrowheads one by one into the fluids. After the final point was submerged, she counted quietly under her breath—uno, dos, tres—before reversing the process, fishing the head from the first flask and laying it on the drying rack. The pincers she wiped fastidiously before moving to the next vial.

Sweat gathered on her brow, but she resisted wiping it away. The sight of her stained rubber gloves was enough reminder of why she did not want these chemicals anywhere near her skin.

Kaelyn did not look up from the flask of purple toxins when quiet footfalls entered her alcove.

"Hey," Vaelith said, instantly recognisable.

"You're here early," Kaelyn replied, not unkindly, eyes focussed on the arrowhead as she pulled it free.

"Am I bothering you? I can leave and come back later." A pause, her voice steady and unhurried. "I just didn't want to teleport back to Umbraholme only to wade through Luminaran bureaucracy again. I wandered a bit, did some window shopping, and thought maybe we could talk."

Can't fault her logic.

Kaelyn smirked faintly behind her mask. "What do you want to talk about, mi diosa?"

She pulled out the poison-coated arrowhead and rotated it, examining the coating from multiple angles. Satisfied, she placed it next to the others on the rack.

Vaelith stayed silent a while, watching as Kaelyn cleaned the pincers and dipped them into the rust-red flask. The granular mix shifted faintly as the tip probed for steel.

"If this is a bad time…" Vaelith began, her voice edged with hesitation.

Kaelyn shook her head without looking up. "It's fine. Just finishing a few batches while the catalysts are still stable. Once they settle, the mix gels and becomes useless." She drew out the arrowhead, checked it, then joined it in the row. "Besides, it's nice having company."

Vaelith smiled, conjured her nearly invisible floating chair, and settled slightly behind Kaelyn's left shoulder. She leaned forward, as if entranced by the ritual of arrow-coating.

Kaelyn lifted the midnight-black arrowhead, waited for the last oily drops to drip back into the flask, and set it carefully with the others.

One arrow at a time, the cycle began again. The workshop air thickened with mineral tang and acrid oils. Vaelith did not break the silence. She simply watched.

As Kaelyn worked, Ryan's voice cut through the quiet.

Are you going to apologise to her? For what you did yesterday?

Apologise, chico? I did it to protect us. I'm not sorry. But if you want to take over, be my guest.

His hesitation was immediate—not at the thought of speaking with Vaelith, but of inhabiting their body.

You'll have to get used to it, she said more gently. You picked this form, and in less than two days, your real body will be just like it. This place is safe. So is Vaelith. Think of it as training wheels.

His answer came haltingly, like words pried from a wound.

That's just it—I'm worried. What if I have another attack, like in the living room?

You managed fine in the VR hub when I needed your help with those emails, she reminded him.

That was different—I had something I could focus on. I didn't have time to think about how it felt.

Kaelyn did not respond to that. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the shimmering vials. Under her mask, she smiled faintly. The answer was obvious: he could just concentrate on the arrowheads.

Right. I get it, I get it.

But she knew he did not—not fully. He sounded like someone clinging to a ledge, safe from the fall, but still too afraid to let go.

She stayed quiet, letting the five vials glimmer with quiet menace. Each distilled into purpose. If only it were so simple—brew a vial of courage, distil a tincture of peace.

She felt his awareness curl inward, shrinking like a leaf in winter. Their fragile balance tilted.

Because it was no longer just the two of them. Somewhere in that shared architecture lingered a girl who had always existed, if unnamed until days ago: a shape, a longing, a colour in the mirror. She liked high ponytails and romantic comedies, disliked team sports and being called "dude" on Discord. Gentle, sincere. She would have been content simply to be recognised, seen. Instead she had been cast aside.

But now there was also the Kaelyn who had survived bullying and abuse. Who had lost her mother and grown up in a freezing orphanage that barely acknowledged her. Not soft, not sweet—sharp, unflinching. Alive only a handful of days, yet tempered by a lifetime of hardship. Half-conjured, half-formed from Ryan's own imagination at character creation. A mask born from his wish to wield this body to manipulate others.

And now he—the one the world insisted was "real"—was little more than a ghost haunting a body that seemed to belong more to Kaelyn than to him.

Kaelyn drew in a breath, set down the pincers, and leaned against the bench. Her eyes blurred against the half-coated arrows as she felt Ryan trying to steady himself in the space between thoughts, where voice and ownership bled together.

You don't have to like it, she said inwardly. But unless you mean to stay a voice in the corner, you'll have to face this—at least until we find a way to ease it. And if you fade away completely, leaving me to take over? That suits me fine, too.

A pause. Then, tentative:

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Can I talk to her as me? Not the mask. Not the voice. Just… Ryan.

Something softened behind her eyes. She gave the faintest nod—and stepped aside.

"I didn't mean to shut you out yesterday," Ryan said, tugging off Kaelyn's gloves, lowering her mask, and turning sideways on the stool. "I—"

Vaelith tilted her head. "Yes?"

Ryan hesitated. The air on his face felt like a spotlight. The mask had been warm, protective; removing it felt strangely irreversible.

"I was scared," he admitted. "Still am, honestly. I was so close to telling you everything. And instead of explaining everything, I panicked. I shut down and lashed out. I'm sorry."

Vaelith studied him closely. "Everything? You knew about your body transforming already?"

Ryan had not. He shook her head slowly. "No. It wasn't that…"

Vaelith's tone stayed even. "Okay. And are you ready to share what it was about today?"

Ryan's gaze dropped. "No. Not yet. I don't think so." A beat, then softer: "But I wanted to apologise."

Vaelith placed a hand gently on Kaelyn's thigh, steady and grounding. "Apology accepted. You wouldn't be the first young person I've sat with—trying to hold themselves together while the world asked too much of them."

Ryan felt a smile tugging at Kaelyn's lips despite himself. "What kind of horrible job do you have to deal with screw-ups like me?"

Vaelith shrugged. "The most horrible of them all—I'm a teacher."

That earned a laugh. A small but unguarded one. "Makes sense," Ryan said, brushing a lock of hair behind Kaelyn's ear. "You've got that calm that makes you feel safe and judged at the same time."

Vaelith smirked. "That's the lesson-plan smile. Comes with your third group project imploding into civil war."

Ryan huffed. "Yeah. That really tracks."

The silence after was easier, like the sting after cleaning a wound—sharp but no longer festering.

Then, quieter, Vaelith asked: "Do you mind if I ask… why shifter? You said your sister thought it might help?"

"Oh…" Ryan weighed the words. "It's a bit of a long explanation, if you don't mind?"

Vaelith nodded gently. "Try me. We've got plenty of time while Elyssia terrorises the local flora."

Ryan exhaled. "Okay. On the surface? Sure, it's a versatile class. I'm curious how the lunar-phase powers play out. But that's not why."

He looked down at Kaelyn's hands in her lap. They did not tremble, but they did not feel like his either.

"I woke up this morning and—" He faltered, regrouped. "It was bad. Worse than anything yet. Before, being in this body felt like a game. Like I was acting. But now? It feels permanent. Like it's closing in around me. I know it's ironic—considering I chose this character—but this morning I couldn't touch my own skin without wanting to crawl out of it."

Vaelith listened without interrupting.

"You're like me, right? You were a guy before, and now you're her. Have you felt the same way? With the changes progressing?"

"No."

Her answer came fast. Too fast. And Ryan caught something in her eyes—Vaelith realised her answer had fallen short.

"No," she repeated, slower. "When I left the character creator, it took me a few minutes to adjust. Smaller body, different proportions. But once I calibrated, I felt at ease. Yesterday morning was bad in the real world—my body reacted violently to the changes. Chills, nausea."

She reached further, took Kaelyn's hand in both of hers. "What you're describing sounds like gender dysphoria. Earlier you asked me to keep using Kaelyn and she/her in-game. But are you sure that's what you want? If you're cis, fighting dysphoria, maybe it would help if we gendered you differently—correctly."

Ryan did not answer right away. Instead, his fingers tightened just slightly around hers. "I appreciate you asking," he said softly. "But no. Please keep using Kaelyn."

He knew it was simpler for the party to stick to one name and one set of pronouns. And with him outnumbered—one Ryan for two Kaelyns—he decided he would endure rather than complicate things.

Thanks, chico. You don't have to, but I appreciate it.

It's like you said. I'll have to get used to it. Nobody would look at this body and think 'male'—not in a thousand years. It's not just for you. It's practical.

"Alright. Kaelyn it is, then." Vaelith squeezed his hand gently. "So there's more to the shifter plan? What's next?"

Ryan flushed. "Well… this is going to sound insane—"

"Believe me, we're past insane. Go on. No filter."

"I used Kaelyn's magic. In the real world."

He left it at that, watching her closely for disbelief.

But Vaelith only smiled—sympathy in her eyes. "You too, huh?"

Ryan blinked. "Wait—what do you mean, you too?"

Vaelith chuckled, leaning back with a soft creak of unseen force. "This morning. I dropped a tray of cookies fresh from the oven—but I caught it. Without touching."

"You're shitting me."

"Nope." Her tone dry. "It drained me—I actually fainted. But the cookies survived."

Ryan let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-panic. "Okay. That makes explanations easier."

"You're thinking of using the shifter's body-alteration to ease your dysphoria?"

Ryan blinked, mouth open. "Ah—yeah. That's the idea. You figured it out that fast?"

Vaelith tilted her head, amusement glinting. "I'm a teacher. Half the job is spotting desperate solutions disguised as clever ideas."

Ryan groaned, but Kaelyn's mouth tugged into a wry smile. "So you understand? Will you help me?"

"Of course we will. Honestly? Your idea with shifter isn't bad. Risky, maybe. But not bad. Just promise me you'll be careful if you start putting your real body through instantaneous magical transformations. I'd hate to have your death on my conscience. Plus Ely seems to think we should keep playing the game to figure out why this happened to us. Levelling up's probably mandatory to reach the answers to all of our questions—if they're to be really found somewhere inside the game."

Ryan leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Right. I won't try anything unsupervised. My little sister and girlfriend will be there when I do."

"Girlfriend?" Vaelith's concern showed plainly. "And how is she taking your… sudden transformation?"

"Better than I am, I think."

Vaelith chuckled. "Just like my wife, then."

Ryan blinked. "You're married?"

"In the real world, yes." Vaelith's smile softened, fond. "Over two decades now."

Ryan realized Vaelith and her wife had been together as long as he had been alive—the small dracan could have been his mother.

"Wow… congratulations. And she's okay with this? I'm glad it's not tearing your marriage apart."

Vaelith's smile dimmed, pained. "I worry it still might. I hope it endures, but I can't force Lisa to love the new me."

Ryan's throat tightened. "That's… really fucking brave."

"It doesn't feel brave," Vaelith murmured. "Mostly it feels like walking through fog and praying the ground doesn't vanish beneath you."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. That sounds about right."

They sat in a silence that was thick but not suffocating—mist, not smoke.

Almost without thinking, Ryan picked up the flask of vitriol, turning it in his hands. "Think there's anything in here," he asked quietly, "that could dissolve fear?"

Vaelith's smile returned, gentler. "If there is, it'd sell out before the market even opened."

She let the silence linger before continuing, her voice thoughtful. "You know… alchemy isn't just poisons and perfumes. Some tonics calm nerves, others sharpen focus. Strength potions—those are basically condensed hormonal surges, quick bursts of muscle and stamina. The body doesn't always realise it's fake."

Ryan blinked, eyes widening.

"I'm not saying it would fix anything," Vaelith added quickly. "But if even a few minutes of not hating your reflection let you breathe, it might be worth trying."

"What… what are you suggesting?"

"I'm saying strength potions might act like a kind of hormone therapy. A stopgap. Temporary, sure, but if they ease the dysphoria, maybe worth it."

Ryan could hardly believe Kaelyn's ears. "You think it could work? Strength's useless for a priest, though…"

"Well, first," Vaelith raised two fingers, "you're planning to change class, so priest may not last forever. More importantly—even if the buff doesn't help combat, wouldn't a 'feel-at-home-in-my-body' buff be worth it?"

Ryan nodded slowly. "Wouldn't it be more like removing the 'feel-like-an-intruder-in-my-skin' debuff?"

Vaelith grinned. "Glass half-empty, meet glass half-full."

Ryan exhaled, letting the flask of vitriol rest back on the rack. "I guess if there's any upside to being stuck in a magical world," he murmured, "it's that the metaphors fight back."

Vaelith chuckled. "That's the dream, isn't it? A world where every bit of pain has a counter-spell."

For a moment, neither spoke. The workshop air felt softer somehow. The rows of arrowheads gleamed neatly under the glowlamps, Kaelyn's careful work steadying more than just steel. Ryan breathed in, slower now. The ache was still there, but no longer crushing.

"I guess we'd better go back to work..."

Vaelith shifted—not abruptly, but as though the heaviness had been set down and they could pick something lighter back up.

"Oh, before that—" She opened her satchel and drew out two long pieces of cloth. "I made you the Hilda/Zelda dress you asked for."

Ryan accepted them: a cloak and a full dress, plain white cotton.

"Feel free to dye it however you like," Vaelith said. "I've got plenty left from the bolls Lee brought me. I'll be in the next alcove making something else for you…"

Ryan could feel Kaelyn's giddiness the moment he touched the fabric—her excitement was unmistakable.

He frowned when the equipment window popped up. "It's a level twenty-five piece…"

Vaelith flashed a grin as she hopped off her seat. "Yep. Should be a good upgrade from your old one once we level a bit more."

Ryan watched as she moved into the next alcove. "What are you making now?"

"When I looked up references, I found a pirate queen version of Zelda. Tetra, right? I can whip up her outfit in no time. I want you to have options for the photoshoot."

Ryan blinked in disbelief as the little dracan changed into artisan's clothes, pulling out cloth, yarn, and needle.

We should finish Leoric's arrowheads, chico. I can't wait to try the dress.

And you're okay with me wearing the pirate outfit?

Por supuesto. Why would I object? This way, we both get what we want.

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