Chapter 4 In Darkness #2
Carefully, Kraghtol reached into his bag and produced the small vial filled with swirling darkness, but furrowed his brow. Attached to the vial were a short piece of string and a note that definitely had not been there before. The writing inside was legible but clearly lacked practice.
“Kragh,
I hope that when you’re reading this, you are already in Winterstone.
I wanted to steal your potion as compensation for the missed opportunity tonight.
In fact, I have already taken it, and you have not noticed.
You are just too trusting, big guy. But your story moves me, and even though you shouldn’t need this, I have the feeling the guild might see that differently.
But you know what, Kragh? Fuck the guilds.
You deserve your dreams, and if you need to lie to chase them, then lie. Lie until the people who really matter see what you’re worth.
Love, Liva.”
A bittersweet smile crept onto Kraghtol’s tusked face.
Liva. Surprisingly, he felt no hard feelings towards her, almost stealing his potion.
Perhaps a part of him had already suspected her to be like that.
Liva was just… Liva. He envied her for her ability to just do what she wants and not care at all about the consequences.
And perhaps he envied her for her freedom, too.
He didn’t know she could write — illegally, of course — but it didn’t surprise him much.
Rules, after all, didn’t seem to apply to her.
But that was only part of it. She had also called him a friend and had wished him good luck. He wasn’t alone. Perhaps he would never see her again, but it was good to know that there were people who liked him.
He inspected the mysterious, swirling black liquid.
Lie until those who matter see what you’re worth, huh?
Of course, there was also Merrick, with all his fatherly wisdom.
He wanted the world to change, not his adoptive son, and the memory of their talk made Kraghtol swallow.
He just wished more people in the world saw it this way.
Carefully, a green fist closed around the vial.
Liva was right, he decided. He would chase his dreams, and if it took a little lying, then he would do just that.
Having decided, he descended to the clock room again, away from potentially prying eyes.
He left the hatch open to get some light in the room below, which was brighter than the blue glow of the alchemical core powering the clockwork alone.
It still wasn’t exactly bright compared to the sunlight outside, but bright enough for Kraghtol to examine the vial and its contents more closely.
The black liquid inside looked as mysterious as it had the first time, and for a moment, he just watched the swirls turn on their own like the blue glowing metal rod in the clock.
He would be able to create something like that.
If not as Kraghtol the half-orc, then as Kraghtol the ordinary human.
Without further thought, he uncorked the vial and downed the liquid in one go.
It tasted bitter, with a bit of an earthy touch to it that reminded him of the forest in Mistpine.
A tingly feeling crept through his entire body, and his stomach turned.
Kraghtol grimaced. He wasn’t sure if this was supposed to happen.
Suddenly, the tingling intensified, and blue fire erupted from his skin, illuminating the room in a flickering dance of light.
Kraghtol automatically began to scream before he realized that the fire did not burn him.
It wasn’t hot at all, and it didn’t hurt.
Instead, his whole body felt like it was being stretched and compressed by an invisible hand, and his skin crawled as if an army of ants marched under the surface.
All on their own, his hands went to his face and arrived just in time to feel his mouth - and his teeth - changing.
His tusks, the hated remnants of his father’s ancestry, were shrinking under his palpating fingers.
But they were not the only things changing rapidly.
His brow, his nose, his ears… everything was finally becoming normal.
As quickly as the flames had appeared, they died again and left Kraghtol gasping for air.
The ordeal had been exhausting beyond measure, adding to the effects of the last night, and all Kraghtol wanted to do now was to sleep.
Even the dusty floor of the clock tower seemed inviting now, and he half-collapsed, falling asleep instantly.
Fog rose from the muddy ground, swirling, dancing like ink in the water, dense enough to veil his sight, but thin enough to see the shapes of trees behind the curtain of mist. At first, it was hard to even identify them as trees; the gnarly, malformed shapes looked more like the grasping claws of a buried giant.
The mud was sucking at his boots, and an eerie silence, broken only occasionally by the wailing noise of unseen animals, surrounded him.
Kraghtol was afraid. Uneasily, he looked around, but he had lost all sense of direction long ago now.
Although he was obviously looking for something, his racing mind kept it just out of reach.
He had to keep going. He had to find it.
It was here, and he knew it. And he knew he was the only one who could find it.
Slowly, with another slurping sound, he took one step forward, pulling his boot out of the mud.
And then another. And another. Quicker now, Kraghtol ran.
Was he being followed? Was he being chased?
Why was he running? The ground was treacherous, but he couldn’t stop now.
He was getting closer. Suddenly, he slipped, falling face-first into liquid mud.
An earthy taste with a bitter note filled his mouth, and he coughed and struggled, to no avail.
The last thing he saw before the muddy grave closed around him was the gigantic outline.
He had found what he was looking for. And yet, he had failed.
When he awoke, some hours must have passed, judging by the light beaming in from above at a steeper angle now.
For a moment, the nightmare still disoriented Kraghtol, and he had to shake his head to recollect his thoughts.
His mouth tasted strange, but only the sight of his clothing that hung loose around his now smaller body brought everything back and dispelled any lingering exhaustion of the alchemical transformation.
Wonder and awe quickly replaced the chill of the nightmare.
It really had worked! He was normal now!
The reflection that looked back at him from a large, polished brass cogwheel was entirely unfamiliar to him.
His skin was rosy and pale, his hair was a dark shade of brown now, and his face was that of an everyday human man.
Only his bright brown eyes reminded him of the old, familiar Kraghtol.
But instead of the almost golden color they had had before, it was now nothing more than a slightly unusual shade of brown.
He smiled, and a human mouth with white, even teeth smiled back at him.
There were no tusks. No deep eye sockets.
There was stubble on his chin, but even that looked less savage than what he had before.
He quickly checked the rest of his body, finding more of the same.
There was no trace of green in his skin, and overall, he was weaker.
Like a normal guy was supposed to be. A quick check under his clothing confirmed that his new body really was average in all aspects, and he couldn’t help but laugh with joy at his new appearance. This was great!
Of course, he couldn’t walk into the guild like this.
He had to get some new clothes and a place to stay first, in that order.
He nodded with determination before closing the roof hatch and beginning the careful descent down the stairs.
His balance felt off, but that was to be expected with a body so different from what he was used to.
Just as he peeked out the door and made sure nobody would see him, a thought crossed his mind.
The wondrous transformation had to be reaching deeper than his skin.
He could not recall a time in his life when it had been so easy to just think properly.
Sure, there had been times when he had been able to fully immerse himself in a task, forgetting everything around him for hours until Merrick usually reminded him to eat; but this was different.
His mind felt not half as chaotic as usual.
It was easy to focus on the steps ahead, and his mind felt undistracted and almost… peaceful.
Kraghtol had never considered that other people thought differently than him, but if this was what humans normally felt, it was no wonder they could create all those wonders around him with ease.
It felt almost unreal how simple things had become.
Within three hours, Kraghtol had not only bought new, better-fitting clothing but also found a small room in the Craftsmen Quarter, above a tailor shop.
Both were owned by a friendly, although tiny and almost deaf lady, Mrs. Brott, who smelled like a strange mix of tea and mothballs.
Kraghtol had tried this place before, but back then, the landlady had locked the door as soon as she had seen him on the street.
As much as he might have wanted to, Kraghtol couldn’t really blame her. His new body was without a doubt much less frightening than his previous appearance.
It was late afternoon, and the sun was already rather low, when Kraghtol found himself in front of the school’s secretary again.
Despite the previous successes of the day, he felt incredibly nervous.
The potion had granted him one more try.
But if it didn’t work out again, taking it would have been all in vain.