Page 35 of Realms of Swords and Storms (Empire of Vengeance #3)
T he setting sun bathed the olive grove in gold light, making the ancient trees seem to glow from within.
I watched the young half-blood pace between the gnarled trunks, his movements betraying his nervousness despite his attempts to appear calm.
Little Warrior sat cross-legged on a flat stone nearby, her bright eyes moving between us, alert and watchful as always.
I had chosen this place with care. Far enough from the city that curious eyes would not find us, yet close enough that we could return before dawn.
The grove held meaning—it was here I had first revealed my true form to Livia, had first felt the bond between us strengthen into something that transcended mere rider and mount.
The ancient trees had witnessed the beginning of our connection; now they would witness the birth of a new Talfen.
If the young one could overcome his fear.
"Ready now?" I asked, my voice still awkward with the human tongue.
The sounds felt wrong in my mouth, too limited to express the complexity of my thoughts.
In my own language—the old tongue of the Talfen—I could have composed poetry about the golden light filtering through silver-green leaves, could have named the specific scent of earth and bark and approaching night.
But in the human speech, I was reduced to simple phrases, stripped of nuance.
Tarshi stopped pacing and faced me, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "I don't know," he admitted. "What if I can't do it? What if I start to change but can't complete the transformation?"
I studied him, seeing the conflict in his eyes.
He had potential—strong Talfen blood that had already manifested in partial shifts.
But the mind was as important as the body in this process.
If he could not overcome the fear the Empire had planted in him, the transformation would remain incomplete and painful.
"Fear blocks," I told him, tapping my chest where a human heart would beat. "Must accept self. All parts. Human. Talfen. One being."
Livia rose from her stone perch and moved to Tarshi's side, placing a hand on his arm. "You can do this," she said softly. "I've seen you face down arena champions without flinching. This is just another kind of battle—one with yourself."
My chest warmed at her words. This was why she was my mate—her strength, her wisdom, her ability to see to the heart of things.
Among the Talfen, females chose their mates for qualities that would strengthen the bloodline.
Intelligence. Courage. Compassion. Livia possessed all these in abundance, despite being human.
In the old days, before the Empire's corruption, she would have been honoured among my kind, perhaps even accepted as one of us despite her human birth.
And now she was helping another find his way to his true nature. My respect for her deepened further.
Tarshi drew strength from her touch, his posture straightening. "What do I need to do?"
I moved closer, the grass soft beneath my bare feet.
Human clothing still felt restrictive and unnecessary to me, but I had conceded to wearing the loose trousers Livia had provided for this excursion.
The fabric chafed against my skin, but I understood the humans' strange attachment to covering their bodies.
"Remove clothes first," I instructed. "First change destroys. Later, with practice, can shift with clothes, but not now."
Tarshi hesitated only briefly before complying, stripping down to his skin.
The light of the setting sun revealed old scars across his body—testament to his life as a warrior.
Good. Scars meant survival, meant strength.
They would carry over to his Talfen form, marking his scales in distinctive patterns.
"Now stand," I directed. "Feet apart. Balance."
He positioned himself as instructed, naked and vulnerable in the fading light.
Livia stepped back, giving him space, though I noted how her eyes lingered on his form.
The sight pleased me. Among the Talfen, it was natural and right for a female to appreciate the strength of her mates.
And Tarshi was worthy—his body honed by combat, his spirit tempered by adversity.
In my mind, I could see them together - Little Warrior and this young half-blood, their bodies entwined in passion.
The image stirred heat in my blood, a pleasant burning that reminded me of flight.
Among my kind, a female with multiple mates was honoured, her status elevated by each worthy male who chose to bond with her.
The more mates, the greater her strength, the better protected her young would be.
Humans with their strange obsession with exclusivity, had forgotten this wisdom.
But Livia was different. She understood, in her own way, that love was not diminished by being shared.
It was one of the many reasons I had accepted her as my bonded mate, despite her human birth.
"Focus now," I said, pushing aside these thoughts for later contemplation. "Close eyes. Feel body. All parts. Know self."
Tarshi obeyed, his eyes sliding shut, his breathing deepening. Good. The first step to transformation was awareness—complete awareness of one's physical form.
"Feel blood in veins," I continued, circling him slowly. "Feel heart beat. Lungs fill. Now deeper. Feel bones. Muscles. Skin."
As I spoke, I allowed my own awareness to deepen, my senses expanding beyond human limitations.
I could hear the quickening of Tarshi's heart, could smell the subtle changes in his scent as his body prepared for transformation.
The Talfen blood in him was strong, eager to express itself after years of suppression.
"Now remember change," I instructed. "When claws came. When teeth grew. Remember feeling. Not fight. Accept."
A tremor passed through Tarshi's body. His hands twitched, fingers extending slightly as if reaching for the transformation. I nodded in approval, though his eyes remained closed.
"Good. Now imagine complete. See self as Talfen. Wings. Scales. Tail. All parts. See clearly."
"I don't know what I'll look like," Tarshi murmured, his brow furrowing in concentration.
"Body knows," I assured him. "Blood remembers. Trust self."
I glanced at Livia, who watched with intense focus, her body leaning forward slightly as if she could physically will Tarshi to succeed. Her dedication to him warmed me. She would be a strong mate for him, as she was for me—supportive but challenging, nurturing but fierce.
"Now," I said, returning my attention to Tarshi, "feel change begin. Start with skin. Feel scales form. Not fight. Welcome."
For several heartbeats, nothing happened. Tarshi stood motionless, his face tight with concentration. Then, slowly, a patch of blue began to spread across his chest—not the sickly blue of his partial transformations, but a deep, rich colour like the twilight sky above us.
"Yes," I encouraged. "Accept change. Welcome it."
The blue continued to spread, scales forming beneath it, small at first then growing larger as they covered his torso and began to extend down his arms and legs. His breathing quickened, but not with pain—with excitement, with wonder.
"Feel bones next," I instructed. "Will hurt. Accept pain. Part of birth."
As if my words had triggered it, Tarshi gasped, his eyes flying open. "Gods," he hissed, arms wrapping around himself as his spine began to elongate, bones cracking and reforming.
"Not fight," I reminded him, seeing the momentary panic in his eyes. "Accept. Pain temporary. Glory eternal."
Livia stepped forward, concern evident in her stance, but I held up a hand to stop her. "Must endure alone," I told her. "First time always hardest."
She nodded reluctantly, understanding the necessity but clearly hating to see him in pain. Another quality that made her a worthy mate—compassion balanced with wisdom.
Tarshi fell to his knees as his legs began to transform, muscles swelling, bones restructuring themselves.
His face contorted with effort, teeth gritting against the pain.
For a moment, I feared he would resist, would try to halt the transformation midway—a dangerous point that could lead to being trapped between forms.
"Keep going," I urged. "Almost through worst part. Then joy comes."
He nodded jerkily, his neck already thickening, jaw extending as his face began to reshape itself. His arms spread wide as wing membranes started to form, stretching between elongated fingers that were rapidly becoming talons.
The transformation accelerated now, his body seeming to understand what was required.
Blue scales covered him completely, darkening to near-black along his spine and lightening to a brilliant azure on his belly and the undersides of his forming wings.
A tail extended from his spine, growing longer and stronger until it stretched several body-lengths behind him.
His size increased dramatically, his form swelling until he was nearly as large as I was in my Talfen shape.
Not quite full-grown—that would come with time and practice—but impressive nonetheless.
The deep blue of his scales caught the last rays of the setting sun, seeming to absorb the light and reflect it back more intensely.
Finally, the transformation complete, a full-grown Talfen dragon stood before us, magnificent in the fading light. His eyes—now enlarged and glowing with inner fire—blinked in confusion, then wonder as he raised a clawed foot, examining it in amazement.
Pride filled me at the sight. Despite generations of suppression, despite the Empire's lies, the Talfen blood remained strong. This young one had found his true form, had reclaimed his heritage. It was a victory not just for him, but for all our kind.