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She chose the form without a thought.
It had been a nice day in Darkwood before the lesson, with the sun shining bright and the scent of camellias fresh in the air. The Lamb had made breakfast, with grief reduced in their eyes. The harp playing spell was working, providing gentle background music to help her focus. It had been a good day, in Kashe’s opinion.
They had begun their lessons after breakfast and this one had been one she had been looking forward to. “Shapeshifting is one of the most versatile magics in our world,” she said, watching as the Lamb wrote that out in their notes. They were a careful notetaker, apparently due to the hours of paperwork required to run a cult. Kashe had to admit that she missed her followers, but she did not miss the paperwork. “With it, you can take the form of anyone and anything. Can you think of any uses shapeshifting can have?”
“Well,” the Lamb said, tapping the feather of their quill against their lips. “You can use it to spy on someone,” She nodded. “Or to hide or just a quick disguise in case you need it. I know there were times I wanted to slip away without anyone noticing.”
Kashe clapped her hands, beaming with pride, both for her disciple and her good sense for who to make her disciple. “Very good!” She pulled out her spellbook and turned it to the correct page. “In the beginning, you will need the circle in order to fully transform,” she said, angling the book so the Lamb could write it down. She set the book next to them. “But, over time, you will be able to do it as easily as putting on a cloak!” The clothes will change and everything.
She snapped her fingers and allowed her form to shift and change as she spun, unable to help the little drama queen in her heart. It was an awkward feeling, with bones shifting in and out of place and her horns snapping and popping to become new. It was different from placing a glamor, that came with the faint sensation of something soft and delicate, like spiderweb, draping across the form. This was substantial.
She chose the form without a thought.
When Kashe opened her eyes, the Lamb stared at her. Their face was pale and eyes haunted, like she was a ghost. She looked down, confused at the reaction, and felt her own face pale.
She knew this form, this body. Soft white wool, matching her fur color, with strong legs that came from climbing up and down ladders. The cloak that replaced her dress had touches of her soft teal, but were mostly black, teal-colored eyes winking at her as she gripped the fabric. Her head had a new weight from it, from the horns she knew without a doubt curled there.
To the Lamb, she had transformed into the first lamb they had seen in years. To her, she had transformed into her son.
She did not know how to react. An old ache demanded attention in her chest now, the same ache that burst to life when her son gave Shamura, barely older than a teenager, a prophecy and they had decided to flay him alive. The ache had died over time, replaced with fresh ones like the loss of her crown, the loss of her followers, the loss of her friends and family, and the general ache of aging when you were an immortal goddess.
“...Can I hug you?” The Lamb’s soft voice interrupted her spiral. The panic had faded, replaced by a look she recognized. It was grief. “It’s been a while since…since I’ve… since I’ve seen a la…”
Kashe opened her arms.
The Lamb fell into her embrace.
The spell reacted to her emotions, and the music became softer, sadder, as she gave into her grief and held a lamb again.