Chapter Text
“It worked,” he whispered in an unfamiliar voice. It had changed, along with the rest of him. Two legs, unsteady but strong, one torso and one heart that pounded against strange bones. As he brushed his hands repeatedly through his hair he felt no hard stubs from his hewn antlers, no long furred ears. The hair that fell over his face was brown not gray, and even his skin had changed, had lost its dusky tone and changed to a warm copper.
He raised his new eyes to the elk. The elk stared back. It snorted and trembled, cantering forward then back on hooves that had once been his.
Its eyes were so wide. Wide and sentient.
Then it spoke.
“What have I done?”
He cried out and took a step back.
“You can talk?”
The elk looked down at its own shadow.
“What have I done?” It repeated. It had his voice, familiar and low. Or the voice that had once been his. It looked up at him again, horror etched into its animal face.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“I’m surprised too,” Man said. “You— you’re me. The magic was supposed to split the body, not anything else.”
“Put us back,” the elk pleaded. It was already backing away to the machine. “Reverse this. This was a mistake.”
The panicked pitch in its voice erupted into a shrill bleat that startled the both of them. It fell onto its two front knees, staring transfixed at its shadow.
“Whoa whoa,” Man said, and rushed to the machine. “We’re doing no such thing. It worked! My— our experiment was a success! Look at me!” Glee rose within him as he inspected himself further. “I’m human! This is everything I’ve always wanted.”
“And this is everything I’ve always feared,” said the elk. It was panting great heaving breaths, spiraling into a panic attack. “What am I to do like this?”
“You could— go back home?” Man suggested halfheartedly. “You still have my--our mind. Perhaps you could take up our old life. It wasn’t a horrible one.”
The elk chuckled bitterly.
“Go back? To being a Rift worker? With no hands?”
It bleated again.
“I am no longer a centaur, I do not belong in that world any more than you do. And— she’s not there. I did this for her , I can’t...”
Man looked down at the pitiful bowed creature before him. Something in his heart twinged. The love that burned within him for his lovely kind princess he knew also burned within the elk’s heart, the heart they shared. His delight momentarily overshadowed, he suddenly saw the misery of the beast’s fate. It was a magically wrought soul that belonged to no worlds, a man trapped in an animal’s body. A man with his own heart and mind.
He reached out to pat its shoulder. It was warm, rippling with sinew and thick familiar fur. He suppressed a shudder.
“We’ll find a home for you. We’re the same person in a way. There’s no reason why we can’t share this new life. We’ve been given a second chance to win her. And once I do, if I do, I will make sure you are taken care of. In a place nearby, near her company if that’s what you want.”
It was a flimsy offer, reluctantly offered. But even that was enough to get the elk to raise his head and peer hopefully at him.
“As long as I am near her, I can bear anything. Will you keep your promise?”
“I will,” Man said. The elk smiled, an action that looked unnatural and grotesque with its long snout and wide teeth. He offered a weak one in exchange before turning away to cringe.
“For starters then,” the elk said, cocking its head at him. “Let’s focus on getting you clothed. It doesn’t seem likely that their world will accept you, human or not, with nothing but a mere cloak. Unless your intention is to make an entrance.”
That was his sarcasm. It was a sarcasm they shared, a sense of watery humor that he had evolved to soften the hurt and blows from years of degradation. It was odd, hearing a stranger’s voice from his own mouth, but the exact inflections of a voice he’d used his entire life from an animal.
Not my voice anymore he corrected himself. This was his new start, a new identity. He had begun the endeavor hoping to leave everything about his old life behind. But as he looked back at the elk, sifting through the human clothes he had brought with one hoof, he knew that it was not going to be such a simple matter.
It was late. He had not expected anybody to be near the human side of the Rift, just as there had been no activity in Centaurworld. But against all odds, as he emerged, an elderly human woman toddled by, lugging a cart towering with melons. It was clearly far too heavy for her.
She caught sight of him and stopped in her tracks.
“G-good evening,” he said. He felt the elk following behind him and, pressing his hand against its emerging snout, shoved it back through the portal.
“Good evening,” she said, squinting. “What is a young man like yourself doing at the Rift so late?”
His heart gave a little leap. Young man . He was doing it, he was passing as a human. Because you are, he reminded himself. Own it. Act like it.
“Er— I had— had stuff to do— business of sorts and such on the other side,” he stuttered. He winced. Becoming a human hadn’t fixed his people skills apparently.
She looked him over.
“Where are your goods?”
“Oh— my goods?”
“Your wares? What business brought you there?”
“I, er—” he raised his hands helplessly. “I don’t have any— ah I was robbed!”
“Robbed?” she cried. “How horrible!”
“Yes, I was robbed. By centaurs! In fact,” he finished triumphantly and was relieved to see her nod along with a pitying expression.
“Oh you poor thing. Those nasty brutes really are an untrustworthy bunch, it’s a shame we have to do business with them.”
“Um, indeed,” he said uncomfortably. The elk’s antlers were poking him hard in the back as it tried to force its way through. He placed his hands behind him and shoved against it once again.
The old woman struggled with her cart as he tried his best to act natural while pushing and getting pushed against the portal. Luckily she seemed to be quite nearsighted with spectacles inches thick.
“Stop it,” he hissed as the elk shoved against him once more. “There’s someone here.”
“What was that?” she asked.
“Ah, I was just saying there’s someone here. To help. You. Me. I’m here to help you,” he fumbled out. “That cart looks far too heavy.”
He dashed down the steps, thankful that the elk had finally retreated, and helped the woman lug her cart. With a great deal of effort, they managed to get it against the bottom of the steps.
“Thank you,” she said with a grateful wheeze. “I’m not as hearty as I used to be. My husband is coming tomorrow morning to sell these on the other side, and asked me to drop them off tonight so he’s first through the portal. It gets quite crowded on market days.”
“Perfectly understandable. I’m glad to have been of assistance,” he said and flinched as she reached up a hand.
“Oh you’re a startled one aren’t you son? I just want to give you one of these,” she said, patting his cheek gently. “You’re such a polite young man.”
He blushed. “Do you happen to know where I could find a place to stay?” he asked. “Maybe an inn?”
“Oh no need for that. If you don’t mind keeping me company, you’re more than welcome to spend a night at the farm. I’ll cook you up some nice soup and give you a warm place to rest. You need it after your ordeal.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, shocked. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Nonsense. Us people-folk need to take care of one another you know,” she said, patting his hand and leading him away. He looked back once as they walked down the empty street. The elk slipped from the portal in the distance, standing against the glowing blue in a tall black silhouette.
He sat in the farmer’s cottage, clutching a mug of steaming soup as his host stoked the fire.
“Such a shame really,” the hunched woman said, poking at the coals. “A fine young man like you, getting robbed. And by centaurs! I really can’t stand their kind, you know, and frankly I’m not surprised. They’re a shifty bunch, always smiling and singing. You never know what they’re really thinking.”
He nodded along, sipping the broth and trying not to look out the window. The elk was out there, staring. He felt his eyes on him like two hot beacons.
“Well just let me know if you need anything else dear. The hearth rug is soft enough and that fire will keep you warm through the night. I’m off to bed now, an old lady needs her sleep.”
“Good night, and thank you again,” he said, and was caught off guard by the smile she gave him in return, a real one where she looked into his face.
“You’re very welcome dear. Rest up now.”
She toddled away.
Man looked down into his cup, unable to stop his growing giddy smile. She hadn't dismissed him. Had invited him in. Hadn’t talked down to him. Hadn’t ignored him or given him awkward false pleasantries. She had called him handsome .
And she had been so so kind. He had no idea this was how humans really were to each other, helpful and hospitable. He had spent his life in service to their whims, never receiving more than a half-hearted thank you for all his work. Now he sat at a stranger’s table drinking her supper, ready to receive a shelter that would never have been offered to him before.
He looked up and yelped, nearly dropping the mug.
The elk stood right outside the window, its face illuminated harshly by the refracted firelight. It looked like a dark phantom, a demon with branched horns.
He rushed to the window and swung it open.
“What are you doing?” he hissed.
“It’s cold,” said his other half simply. “I was cold.”
“Well you can’t come in,” he whispered. “Look, I’m sorry but how do you think that kind woman is going to react when she finds an animal on her hearth?”
The elk’s gaze turned hard, pained.
“I’m not an animal.”
Man closed his eyes for a second, mustering patience.
“Look, I’m sorry. Neither of us wanted this. But you and I both made that decision when we were one. You got the hard end of that deal and I’m sorry, but we have to live with those consequences now. Things will be better once I figure out a way to find her.”
“And you’ll what? Sweep her off her feet?” the elk asked angrily. “You, a stranger in this land just as much as I am?”
He shrugged with a half-hearted grin. He had seen his reflection in the old farmer’s mirror.
“I mean, neither of us could have known I’d have this advantage,” he said, gesturing to his face. “Who knew this was under all that fur?”
The elk sighed, closing its eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Man said, dropping the smile. “I thought that’d make you laugh.”
It gave a tired chuckle. “Oh, did you?”
They both gazed at each other. Centaurs had animated faces, often magically endowed with exaggerated features that transformed readily with their emotions. He had once spent so long preventing his own face from doing it, using the innate magic within him to craft and hone himself into someone as serious and static as possible. He had once been proud of his still face.
The elk’s face was utterly unreadable. A man’s eyes but a solemn animal’s body.
“Look—” he said, ruffling his hair. It was a force of habit, reaching for antlers to fidget with when he was stressed.
“Why don’t you come in for a bit. She’s sleeping, and as long as you leave early before she wakes, she won’t know.”
He heaved the window open wider and helped the elk as it scrambled over the sill. It kept leaning forward to the table, reaching out with one leg then another and it took him a moment to realize that it was trying to grab it for balance, with phantom arms that were no longer there.
It was a panicked clumsy ungracious tumble that finally got the elk into the cottage. It immediately trotted to the fire and lay on the hearth.
“Oh. That’s nice,” it said, and promptly closed its eyes. He had always been quick to sleep, and it took no time at all for the elk’s breathing to transition into a peaceful snuffling rhythm.
Man looked down at the slumbering beast.
It was clearly a wild thing. It did not belong in a house. It did not belong by a fire. But it had his mind and his heart, and he knew he would have hated to be in the cold desolate woods alone after such a traumatic night. The elk did not belong anywhere.
“How much of my soul is yours,” he whispered. “How much of this heart is mine?”
He crouched and leaned against the elk’s bulk, trying to get comfortable. He suddenly remembered nuzzling with his siblings as a child, all of them clustered against his parents in a cozy pile on the coldest nights. He hadn’t seen them in a long time; they lived so far from the Rift. He would never see them again now. He wondered how they were.
Then he too closed his eyes.