#cillianokeefe

Neve had feared this moment would come. But to have it occur at the biggest soiree of the new year, under the eyes of King Oberon and his menacing court brought a new type of terror. 

It had started with a single finger. Neve had reached for an oyster from a passing tray, mouth watering at the sight of the delicate pink of the meat sitting atop an iridescent shell the size of her fist. But, just as quickly her hand recoiled in horror. Her pinky finger was the color of teak with a nail bitten down to the point of bleeding, while the rest of her well-groomed hand was so pale each blue vein was visible through the skin. Neve’s eyes darted around her, paranoia flooding her senses. Curling her hand into a fist that hid her right pinky from view, she ducked into the crowd and headed towards the doors to the gardens. She tried her best to keep her breath steady and her steps light, even as she felt bile rising in her throat.

Did any part of her looking different? Had anyone noticed? Neve dared not make eye contact with any of the extravagantly dressed fae that packed the ballroom, for fear of drawing anyone’s gaze. This was only the beginning, she knew. These days just about every time she took Luna’s form, or reverted back to her own, it was agony. And each time it grew harder to keep it on all day. Every morning she felt as though she were being torn in two, muffling the sounds of her screams with a silk covered pillow. Nosebleeds came more and more frequently, and the dull ache in her bones never faded. Neve was dabbling in magic far out of her skillset. But, she knew a mere glamour to look like Luna would not fool the most skilled spellcasters in the room. Taking Luna’s form for long periods of time required true magic, the kind only the most talented of spellcasters could uphold. And it was probably killing her. 

It was surely on a matter of minutes before the bones beneath Neve’s skin began to ripple, break and reform as they did each day. She had little faith she could hold back the screams this time, even under this kind of duress. Neve could feel her hold on her magic reaching it’s limits, her control of it growing so taut that it threatened to snap. Could she make it to her chambers in the castle before she looked more Neve than Luna? Her heart sank at the thought of the maze of hallways it would take. It was too risky. Better to distance herself from the eyes of any passing courtier or servant. 

It was just as Luna reached the threshold of the door that she felt the first ripple. A whimper escaped her lips as the bones of her arm began to lengthen, unnaturally stretching the skin under the sleeve of her gown. Her steps hurried as she walked out into the mercifully dark royal gardens, nothing but the moon’s glow offering any scant light. This was the place that most nobles went at these sort of gatherings when they didn’t want to be seen. Sure, this was usually due to actions of a more carnal or blatantly illegal nature than this. But, it would have to do.

Had anyone followed her out, Neve would likely not have noticed. The pounding in her ears and eyes full of terrified tears obscured her sense. The many goblets of mead she had downed were likely of little help either. All she could think of was getting as far away from the revelry as possible.