#ghaik

Ada’s consciousness returned violently. She woke mid-fall, her weight shifting with terrifying finality before she crashed to the floor, face-first, the impact sharp and jarring. Around her, there were shards of the pod that had held her before.

Groaning, she pressed herself up on unsteady arms, a deep pounding throb resonating in her head. A strange, insistent pulse beat behind her eyes. It was too strong and too alien to be her own.

For a moment, she paused on her hands and knees, waiting for the world to stabilise itself around her again. She was cold, dizzy, and scared. With shaky fingers, she touched her temple, tracing down to the skin under her right eye.

Her fingers brushed the sore, bruised skin, and winced as her memories reared up, piecing themselves together in fragments: the nightmare pod, the monster with tentacles, the thing it shoved into her eye… Her stomach turned, and Ada was sure she would have vomited if there was anything left inside.

Her surroundings flooded her senses, jolting her into full awareness. The air was filled with smoke and the acrid smell of something burning. Fires licked up the walls that looked like flayed skin, casting grotesque shadows that melded into the fleshy, organic structure around her.

She wasn’t in a building, that much she could tell. A large hole gaped in the wall to her right, and beyond it, she saw a dizzying expanse of open sky. Wind whipped through the space, chilling her already trembling skin. Am I… on a plane? Some sort of airship?

Ada tried to stand, but her limbs felt strange. They were heavy and uncooperative, as if her body had forgotten how to move. She shifted into a crouch, her torso now upright and her head swimming from the movement.

The floor was shaking in waves below her, almost like the ship was having chills, just like Ada herself. Slowly and unsteadily, she rose to her feet.

A strange imbalance tugged at her head as she lifted her gaze, like a weight that shouldn't be there. She raised a hand to touch her forehead and recoiled, gasping, as her fingers met something hard, rough, and unyielding.

Her thoughts stumbled, tripping over themselves, as if her brain couldn’t keep up with what her hands were telling her. She explored it, her breath catching in her throat. It was no hallucination; two thick, rough horns curled back from her head, as real as the floor beneath her feet.

Nausea came again. Ada had to fight the urge to scratch her forehead, to tear these foreign objects away, and to smooth over the rough skin around the bases of the horns.

Her hands shook as they traced the gentle upward curve of the horns towards the back. She found that they were thick where they burst through her forehead but tapered to thin, elegant points at the end. Their texture was rough, almost like tree bark, and yet they did not feel brittle, but solid and unbreakable.

Heart pounding, she brushed her hand through her hair. That, at least, felt familiar. It was still long, spilling down to her shoulder blades in thick curls, but where once it had been a mousy brown with magenta highlights, now it had taken on an unfamiliar hue, an odd, almost ethereal shade that blended somewhere between pink and deep amber.

They dyed my hair, Ada thought, and a broken, croaking laugh came up her chest. They gave me horns and a tail, and then, they died my fucking hair? Who does that?

None of this made sense. It was deranged, a fever dream. None of this was real. It was just her imagination. Maybe she’d had a stroke from the heat in Frankfurt? That might explain the headache and how cold she felt.

Her hands moved to her face and down to her neck, fingertips tracing every strange new sensation. Her denial was still battling her bubbling sense of terror.

When she held up her hands, her stomach twisted. Her fingers looked stronger, more dexterous somehow, and at each tip, her nails were harder, sharper, somewhere between a claw and a fingernail. They weren’t quite talons, but they looked disturbingly capable of doing damage. What…what is this? She could barely process it, her mind struggling to catch up with each unfamiliar detail.

The skin of her hands—and, as Ada looked further, her arms—had also changed. Where once her skin had been fair with a warm, pink undertone, now it was a rich, earthy tone, bordering on orange with a burnt note. She held up her arm, horrified, inspecting the colour that seemed to belong to someone else, some otherworldly creature.

Her skin itself seemed thicker, with a leather-like texture that resisted when she pressed her fingertips into it, as though her body had been outfitted with a new, almost armoured quality.

Her hands trembled as they moved over her body, following her sides down to her hips. She was still in the white ribbed tank top she had worn to meet her friends. It was tucked into the same loose-fitting, light blue mom jeans she had worn.

Even her white sneakers were still there, although they were covered in the same unspeakable dirt that also stained her top and jeans. On her fingers were the two familiar rings she wore every day.

Around her neck, she could feel only one necklace instead of the two she’d donned. One must have been lost on her way here. But feeling the small coin-shaped pendant between her collarbones, she was glad it was this necklace that had survived.

This was her favourite necklace, the one she had bought for herself, to remind her of a truth that often felt distant and incomprehensible. Ada searched the pockets of her jeans for any clue that might tell her what happened, but she came up empty-handed.

She was alone, in a scary place, with no idea how she got there. She had no wallet, no change, no phone to call for help. She wouldn’t even know how to explain the situation, how she was, as far as she could tell, a horned circus freak now.

As Ada moved, she felt her tail move behind her, always just out of view. She reached behind her, gently twisting it into view so she could examine it. Its surface was rigid, covered in the same peculiar, brownish-orange skin that now armoured her body, with a slight ridge along the top that felt almost like plating.

The tail twitched in sync with her nerves, unpredictable and restless. The tip of her tail was flat and shaped like an arrow’s head. It felt foreign and familiar all at once, as if it were part of her, but still beyond her control. She could feel her fingers on the skin of her tail; it was definitely part of her body, and it had sensation.

A gnawing unease settled over her as she wondered how it was possible that this all felt so real. The whole thing made her stomach turn—this was hers now, undeniably.

In a sort of desperate humour, she noted that while everything else had changed, her body shape had stayed roughly the same. Her hips were still wide, her thighs thick, her stomach soft beneath the clothes. A flicker of annoyance stirred within her. Of all the things to keep, why this?

She was still plus-sized, her body still her own in that one way, the curves of her form echoing back some semblance of herself despite her annoyance. Even the tattoo on her right forearm, the small, round blue bird surrounded by leaves and flowers, was still there.

It was slightly altered by the new hue of her skin but otherwise untouched. She let out a shaky breath. I’m not gone. Not completely. Now, focus, Ada.

Her mind screamed at her to find some way out of this, to move, to survive. She could still feel the pulse behind her eyes, that sickening reminder of the parasite forced into her by the creature. She didn’t know if this was real or some vivid nightmare, but she had to get out.

Whatever this place is, I’m not staying. For a brief moment, she considered the fact that she was unarmed. But even if she’d had a knife or a gun, would she be able to use it? She’d never even been in a bar fight, let alone in a battle for survival on a burning ship with who-knew-what creatures around.

Still, she turned towards the door the squid-creature had come through. There was a primal force in her, telling her to move forward, not to stand still. She took a steadying breath, forcing herself to her feet as best she could, and continued putting one foot before the other.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that any second now, she’d snap out of it and wake up safe in her bed, drenched in sweat but whole. The yellowish basin she had seen earlier flickered with a sickly glow, its contents swirling with a viscous, shining liquid. Stepping closer, she shuddered, recognising the small, slug-like creatures floating just beneath the surface.

They looked limp now, like worms trapped in some toxic sludge, but she could still recall their terrible squirming and the shrill screech of the one that had been forced into her own eye. The mere sight of the basin made her skin crawl, and she quickly averted her gaze.

Her eyes fell on a shape slumped behind the basin—a twisted, robed figure sprawled lifelessly across the floor. Oh no. Please let it be dead, Ada thought, taking a careful step forward, her pulse racing with fear and curiosity.

The creature lay contorted, but she recognised it as the same kind of creature that infected her. Its eerie, unblinking eyes stared vacantly into the void, and its tentacles hung limp against the cold floor. Relief flooded her, until she realised: whatever had killed it, it might still be around - or worse, looking for her.

Each step she took felt surreal, like walking in someone else’s body. The ship shook again and again, strange organic-looking wires vibrating along the walls like tendons in a body.

Steeling herself, Ada approached the eerie, round doorway that led into an adjacent hall. The door itself pulsed slightly, its fleshy surface shifting before it peeled open like a grotesque iris. She braced herself and stepped through.

The room beyond was nothing short of nightmarish. It was a laboratory of sorts, where tables resembling autopsy slabs were lined up along the walls, each bearing a strange little creature in various states of exposure.

The whole place felt like a butcher’s nightmare. Bodies were laid out like specimens, each twisted into its own morbid display. Small, hunched beings with oversized heads and sharp, needle-like teeth lay limp across the slabs, their mouths open in menacing snarls, even in death.

One creature had skin that looked both rough and rubbery, with jagged claws curled in tight fists as if caught mid-attack. Ada’s gaze shifted to another table, where a figure lay that was disturbingly similar to the woman she had seen in the pod earlier. Tall and lean, its skin was the same greenish hue, though this one appeared to be male.

His features were sharp and fierce, though unmoving, his face marked by the same pattern and war paint as the woman from the pod. Ada felt a twinge of pity and fear. How many others had met the same fate aboard this nightmare?

I am lucky to be alive, Ada told herself, Let’s keep it that way.

Whatever had brought her here, it was clear that nothing was safe from these creatures’ experiments. Her eyes drifted to the edge of the room, where the far wall had been blown open, leaving a jagged tear that exposed the strange, rushing skies beyond.

The narrow hallway that must have once connected the lab to another part of the ship hung broken, its floor still partially intact. Slowly, she edged toward the exposed ledge, her heart pounding as she peered out. Maybe there’s a way out…

Ada made the mistake of looking down, and her head began to spin again. Jesus Christ, she thought, how will I ever make it down that ledge without the wind pulling me down?

Fear twisted in her gut, but hesitation wasn’t an option. Move, or die. It was that simple. Ada scolded herself for her hesitance and fear. It was either walking that small ledge or dying in this lab. So, she asked herself, which is it?

Carefully, she sidled along the ridge, one hand bracing herself against the uneven wall. The torn hull of the ship offered a dizzying view of the endless, tumultuous skies below, where bursts of light zipped through the air. She squinted, her breath catching as she made out massive shapes moving in the distance.

Dragons—actual dragons, bearing riders armed with glowing weapons. They streaked across the sky in vicious arcs, attacking the ship. Fires bloomed where the blasts hit, and the ship groaned, shuddering as it absorbed the impacts.

Then she saw them— hellish creatures clad in armour, their horned figures hurtling toward the ship like creatures from a nightmare. The wind carried the distant clanging of metal and the roars of both dragons and warriors, a chaotic symphony of battle. Her stomach clenched. The ship was under attack, and the battle was far from over.

Suddenly, a shadow passed overhead, and Ada froze. Her heart seized. A figure landed on the ledge before her with a swift, agile grace, barely making a sound as her boots struck the floor.

Ada’s breath caught. It was the green-skinned woman from the pod, her yellow eyes sharp and fierce, her expression filled with determination and disgust. Now, Ada could see the warrior was even slightly taller than her, but skinny and muscular.

In one fluid motion, she drew a massive, gleaming sword, its edge catching the burning light from the explosions around them. Ada took a step back, her pulse racing as she met the towering woman’s unyielding stare. The warrior’s eyes burned with lethal intent as she stared at Ada.

“Abomination! This is your end.”

Her voice was harsh, her accent jagged and unfamiliar. Ada’s breath caught in her throat as she instinctively raised her hands in a defensive gesture.

Her heart hammered, panic clawing at her chest, and the throbbing pain in her head intensified, pulsing behind her eyes. She winced, feeling a strange connection in her mind, almost like a strand of her consciousness reaching out and meeting with the warrior’s.

Something surged between them, a visceral sensation that wasn’t exactly telepathy, but still carried a dark, invasive energy. It was painful, like her head being pulled by her hair in every direction. Ada’s skin tingled.

Visions rush past: a dragon’s wing, a silver sword and a flash of Ada’s own face seen through the strange woman’s eyes.

The woman groaned, breathing heavily. “My head… what is this?”, she hissed. Then she paused. Her grip on her sword relaxed—barely—and her glare shifted.

“Vlaakith blesses me this day,” she said, almost to herself, her tone shifting to a begrudging acknowledgement.“You are no thrall.”

Her blade lowered, and Ada’s hands fell to her sides, though she was still tense, ready to run. The warrior's expression softened just a fraction, and she took a single step back, surveying Ada, clearly taking the measure of her.

The woman looked at her with a warrior’s practicality, sizing her up as if Ada’s survival mattered solely as an asset to her own goals.

“Together, we might survive this.” Her voice was steady but urgent. “I am Lae'zel. We must escape this ship and find a cure before we turn into ghaik.”

Ghaik? The word was foreign, spat with disgust, and Ada didn’t have the faintest clue what it meant. But, realistically, what was she to do but nod at the woman with the big sword and follow her in hopes of surviving this at her side?

Ada felt as though she’d walked straight into a war zone, with no compass and no allies, save this fierce woman who seemed to understand what was happening.

Lae'zel did not seem to need any verbal response from her, because she turned and continued down the ledge, clearly expecting her to follow. Ada fell in line behind her, her heartbeat still racing as she tried not to look down the ledge to the landscape flashing by below her feet.

The ship’s halls twisted and turned, each corner looking more grotesque than the last. The ship had begun to sway dangerously.

Whoever was steering this vessel must also be involved in the fight. Ada struggled to keep her balance on the undulating floor, which gave slightly underfoot, like stepping on living tissue.

They hadn’t made it far when they encountered a pack of small, bat-like creatures with red, leathery skin and needle-sharp teeth.

Lae'zel leapt forward with a ferocious cry, her sword slicing through the air. She made quick work of them, her movements swift and purposeful.

Ada was torn between horror and marvel at the warrior before her, and at her ruthlessness and efficiency. She felt absolutely useless and paralysed with fear. She just stared at the creatures and winced at the sounds they made when the greatsword hit them.

Suddenly, there was a movement behind her. Ada turned. One of the bat-demons had snuck up on her.

This close, Ada could see the eerie light and her own face reflected in the black pools of its eyes. The creature moved to strike her with its claws, and Ada had nothing to defend herself with.

She was too stunned to flee. She just thrust her arms out in front of her as if to push the creature away.

Get away from me, Ada thought desperately, like she was hoping to manifest a defence where there was none, as if that would be any use.

But to her surprise, there was a deep rumble, somewhere between a war drum and an old church organ. It was more a sensation than a noise.

For a moment, the air between her and the creature was filled with pink-golden waves, like particles floating in a beam of sunlight. At the same time, the bat creature was pushed away from her, reeling to the other end of the cavernous room they were in. It made a pitiful sound and fell to the floor, no longer moving.

Ada still stood there, inert with her arms outstretched and her eyes open in surprise.

What was that?

The force in her voice had felt raw, like magic bending to her will—or rather, her fear—without her knowing how. Had that really been her? What had she done? Lae'zel shot her a glance, a mix of approval and suspicion flashing in her fierce eyes.

“You are a spellcaster, then.” Lae'zel’s tone was unimpressed and calm. “Next time, I expect you to react faster, instead of freezing like a frightened child.”

Ada was overwhelmed with the harsh words thrown at her. She was still processing what had just happened. She had done that. Had she? How?

But there was no time to dawdle. Lae'zel was already moving again, and all Ada could do was follow her. Ada would have to survive this to ask her companion what exactly she had meant by “spellcaster”.

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