Madeira knew Ssanya was a Dhani. This was a comfortable, accepted fact. But it wasn't until she was pinned to the cobblestone, cursed with heightened senses she couldn't control, watching her best friend shift forms for the first time that the weight of that fact truly hit her.
As she watched, Ssanya's long dark hair retreated into her scalp. Her pupils split her new molten gold eyes, and her lips receded around her snarling needle teeth. The burnished brown skin bubbled like melted wax as bones rearranged themselves, and scales erupted like fissures in cracked glass. On top of her legs a tail as thick as her hips was slithering and growing, tipped with a heavy black rattle. Trapped and unable to look away, she was watching something she cared for so deeply transforming into a nightmare.
She screamed. A confused mess of Vani and Common spilled from her lips, screaming for help, for mercy. The Dhani caught her wrists and forced them above her head, then leaned over her until they were inches apart. There was nothing she recognized in that flat, snake-like face. No glimmer of her friend in the hooded eyes and the forked tongue that hissed at her in a language like wind over shifting sand.
Then she opened her mouth, and two thin, wickedly curved fangs stretched for her throat.
Something primal in the mouse detonated then. Madeira's soul was ripped and battered as the sheer force of its terror won it complete control of the Spiritist's body. And unable to feel the strain of her heart or the pain of her underwhelming muscles, it increased the fight of her body tenfold. Trying to lift her trapped wrists from a creature both too heavy and too strong, Madeira was the only one who felt the bones in her right elbow splinter under the force.
Then the Dhani roared with a sound like she was ripping her own throat apart. The panic that chased itself around and around her body, fuelled by the curse, reached a crescendo. Her fluttering, overtaxed heart stopped.
Was this what it was like to die? It was worse than Madeira imagined. There was less peace and much more pain. The ghost was gone, yet the trained Spiritist didn’t even feel her go. The mouse had slipped away unnoticed, fleeing the fetish and the dying woman. Then gentle hands lifted the skull away too.
The second it was lifted away her heart gave a great, shuddering bang, then continued sluggishly. Madeira breathed her first full, unfettered breath in bells.
Oh gods, she was still alive. Dizzy and in pain, but alive. She would have sobbed with the relief of it, but she couldn’t find the energy. But there was a sound, something tortured and sad, begging her not to die. She rolled her head to the side and saw the monster, with her head bowed, crying, apologizing.
No, not a monster. Ssanya.
Most of the people had fled the plaza, but a handful had stayed. Some were tourists rooted to the spot with a shock that Alvadas had yet to beat out of them. But more than a few locals had broken into a run toward them. They were shouting, unholstering weapons, rushing to save the little human woman from the big, scary Dhani that attacked her.
As soon as Madeira recognized what she was seeing she scrambled to her knees. Her left hand found a loose cobblestone the size of her fist, and with it she rose shakily to her feet. Her right arm hung loosely at her side, the elbow pointing thirty degrees in the wrong direction. It didn’t hurt, not yet, but she could feel the bones grinding together and a great wave of nausea seemed to emanate from it. She rose the stone above her head and yelled in a voice dry and cracked from overuse.
“Don’t touch her! Don’t you dare touch her!”