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Closing her eyes, Lindi took in a deep, steadying breath through her nose and released it through her mouth. She flipped her eyelids open and spread her arms to the world.

Before her lay the Veil: vast, dangerous, and seemingly unending. At her feet, merely a hair’s width away, was the deadly and frightful fall of the canyon’s cliff edge. Rocks broke off under her boot tip and, if she wasn’t careful, the ground could come apart underneath her.

In the seven years she’d been gone, it looked so different. She hardly believed her eyes when she took her first look at the ground far down below.

It was as though thousands of trees had not only newly sprouted, but had fully matured.

Moisture clung to each leaf with such richness and lusciousness, breathing life and creating a cloudy white mist that spread all throughout.

It reached everywhere, touched all of the Veil, and gave it an eery, haunted atmosphere.

Along with it, Weldir’s black mist had thickened and descended into the canyon like the pour of a waterfall down each wall face.

To a normal, unsuspecting eye, they wouldn’t see it, but Lindi had begun to pull apart the very fabric of life and see beyond into the shadows that lurked even in the shade.

The mist was there, growing, as was his power.

She’d seen it in the forests surrounding the portals she’d passed in the northeastern continent she’d wandered.

So much has changed in thirty-two years since I gave my soul to Weldir, she mused, as she looked up to the dusking sky. And I’ve witnessed so much of it.

She’d seen wonders and horrors. She’d pitied people she encountered, and was thankful for the strange ones who had taken her in. She’d killed, and she’d adored. She’d cried, and recently laughed. She’d shed blood, sweat, and she’d sacrificed.

A splash of orange set the horizon ablaze while dusting the clouds with a mesmerising purple. It somehow made the horridness of the Veil seem less imposing and daunting, reminding her there was much beauty left in the world. That there was, truly, light in this dark age.

It was a beautiful evening.

So beautiful, even, that she leaned forward as though she dared an attempt to grasp it. The cloak around her shoulders caught the wind in her movements and opened as she fell off the cliff...

Lindi didn’t scream; she didn’t even fret.

Instead, she closed her eyes against the cold, invisible wind cutting across her face and the frightful rush of the incoming hard ground. She ignored the reminder of the only other time she’d done this, which had ended in her very first death.

Feel your skin change. A certain boisterous and mad woman’s voice rang in her ears. Your heart must be open, your mind clear enough to allow another’s instincts to enter.

Lindi felt out with her mind to touch the air and harness the way it rustled within her shapeless, masculine clothing.

Heat collected against the middle of her sternum between her collar bones as her cloak ties choked her.

A sharp whistle pestered her eardrums, but it was drowned out by harsh teachings.

It was a long fall. Forever seemed to pass.

The ground had to be closing in.

I’ve done this fall before.

It felt like eons ago. That day she fell to her first death, only to awake in a realm of weightless shadows.

“Lindiwe,” Weldir’s dark warning rumbled, calling even louder through her thoughts than normal.

As she opened her eyes, Lindi twisted in the air.

Everything changed all at once. Her eyes sharpened to the point that she could see the blades of grass below her, rather than the murk of just plain green.

Her ears dulled against the wind, but the scamper of something, a monstrous void creature no doubt, scratched in her mind despite the distance.

Her hair shrunk in length, as black feathery hardness sprouted across the bridge of her nose and moved like a wave.

It spanned across her face, over her head, and then down her neck and back.

Her spine changed to support much larger feather growth as a tail formed, while her feet changed shape into taloned claws.

Her hands, loosely spread out behind her, thinned as her fingers lengthened into wide arches, just as thick, strong muscle formed between her armpits and wrists.

Just before she hit the treetops, Lindi flapped her lengthy wings. They caught a current of air and she caused the leaves below her to sway and rustle in her wake as she shifted into a glide. She opened her shiny dark-grey beak to release a caw.

Something snarled in answer from the ground, but it was swiftly left behind as she continued on.

Then Lindi banked left to head west. She darted towards the cliff wall until her wing tip almost brushed against it, but she skilfully avoided it.

She looked down when she passed over water to see the reflection of her black feathered form. White irises stared back, and she cocked her head for a better look.

Although she knew it to be hidden beneath her feathers, she felt the sky-blue mana stone against her sternum. Its warmth was comforting. She never imagined something so small and light could be so powerful.

It was no bigger than a tiny riverbed pebble, yet it gave her the power to harness a spell that had been interwoven into the very cloak of feathers she’d worn upon her fall.

Of course, many ravens, and even a crow, had needed to die in order for Lindi to be granted the use of their frock.

Hunting and collecting them for Weldir had been a long and arduous task, the creatures cunning and wise enough to flee her before she could pounce.

But it was done, and in their death, Lindi was gifted freedom.

Lindi, as her raven self, cawed as she brought her wings close to her body and spun like a vortex in the air, only to spread them once more. She flew up and away from the Veil that passed at lightning speed below her.

She was swift, her body still large and her same human height. She crossed meadows and passed over newly erected walled towns in no time.

“It seems you like your new form,” Weldir stated through their bond. “Should I call you little raven now instead of little human?”

Mirth was evident in his tone; Weldir found humour in the way she took in this new power. Without Weldir it wouldn’t have been possible, as she couldn’t create such a complex and interwoven spell, but it was now all hers.

The mana stone was physical, and she could take it anywhere. It didn’t need him or his magic to fuel it. She thought Furir would be proud, and perhaps one day Lindi would return to her to show her what she could become.

However, until Furir, Lindi was limited to this raven form, so long as she didn’t lose any of its feathers. If she did, she would have to hunt for another and have Weldir fix it, otherwise she might not transform properly.

If she wanted, she might even be able to create a cloak from furs and shift into that instead, but she could not choose without making arrangements. The stone and spell could only handle one animal type each time.

They were arrangements she doubted she’d make.

Now that she’d tasted the wind, felt it in her blood, her bones, she knew she’d always choose the liberating openness of a bird.

Why be planted on the ground when she could reach unimaginable speeds like this?

She didn’t even feel the cold, and the wind wrapped around her like a blanket of security.

I could reach Nathair’s territory in no time. To prove that, she banked to the right to cross back over the expanse of the Veil.

What would take a month on foot should surely only take a mere day, if not less, if she didn’t rest. She chased the darkening horizon with the last of the sun on her back, watching as a crescent moon, pale blue and gorgeous, rose before her.

Her dark-grey beak was hard and immobile, but she felt her smile within her very soul.

If I could, I’d never turn back into a human. No wonder Furir found this so addicting.