Columns rose here in many rows, supporting a vaulted ceiling. Water filled the chamber, running deep and black, enough for a city to drink. It was an old, oft-forgotten place, one of the oldest chambers in the city-state of Eteer. It was a place to be alone.

This is where I found them, Raem thought. This is where I found my wife, Anai, and my daughter, Laira. Here is where they came to shift.

That day returned to him, perhaps the worst of his days. He had secretly followed them here. He had seen them become the reptiles, swim in the water, fly to the ceiling.

He had confronted them with rage, screamed, even shed tears. He had drawn his sword, prepared to slay them, and they had fled, flying away from this city, flying to the northern lands of barbarians.

Raem trembled. "And now I've lost a son too."

He could no longer contain his despair; it welled inside him, all consuming. Eyes stinging, he entered the water.

He clenched his fists, ground his teeth, and squeezed his eyes shut.

He releases the rage.

The curse swelled.

Scales flowed across Raem, black as the darkness. Horns grew from his head, and claws sprouted from his fingers. His wings burst from his back, banging against the columns, and his tail lashed in the water. Fire sparked between his teeth.

A dragon in the deep, he lowered his head, trembling, clanking, diseased, ashamed.

"You infected me too, Anai," he said, voice rising from a mouth full of fire. "But I will hide it. I will end it. I will stop this disease from spreading. And I will kill anyone who stands in my way."

He released his magic.

He became a human again, a mere man, a sick man, floating in the water.

He climbed onto a ledge of stone, trembling with his shame. He pulled off his shirt of bronze scales and the cotton tunic he wore beneath it. He unbuckled his thick leather belt.

Upon the ledge, Raem clenched his jaw and swung the belt over his back. The leather connected with his flesh, tearing into the skin.

Raem bit down on a cry.

I am filthy, he thought. I am a sinner. I will purify myself.

He lashed the belt again. Again. The blows kept landing, driving the shame away. When he was done, when the purity was restored, he curled up on the stone floor. He bit his fist. He took short, ragged breaths, and again he smelled it, that beautiful smell that could always soothe him. Blood.

TANIN

He stood on one foot, juggling his bronzed raven skulls, but the onlookers only yawned, shifted their weight, and fluttered their lips with bored snorts.

Standing on the creaky wooden stage, Tanin gulped. It was a chilly autumn day, the sky overcast and the wind biting, but Tanin felt as if he stood within the flames of the Abyss. He needed to win this crowd over—and quickly. Only the top performers in the harvest festival won the coveted prize: a purse of seashells from the distant southern coast. Seashells could be bartered for food, ale, medicine—and, Tanin thought, maybe a little dignity.