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“The solution I’m proposing is dunamantic, and risky.” Essek’s hands played at the edges of his spell book, failing to get it perfectly smooth. “Essentially, it would take all of your souls and toss them about, including Delilah’s—and hers, we would toss out of possibility. Out of this reality, so to speak.”
Imogen chewed at her lip. “The risk is that someone else’s soul would get…thrown out?”
“No,” the drow corrected. “My focus would be on ensuring it is hers that gets annihilated. But because of that, I may not be able to…ensure everyone returns to the proper bodies. We can cast it again later, with additional modifications to ensure safety and rectify anyone, er, mispositioned, but my impression is this situation is quite urgent. The spell targets everyone in the area, and it wasn’t exactly designed for…this.”
In actuality, Essek had no idea what the spell was for. It was one of their Aeor discoveries, and he’d copied it down because he thought it could be useful for understanding consecution, not because he thought he’d ever have use for it.
“It’s ranged?” Ashton asked, and at Essek’s nod, said, “good, so I should get out of the fucking building. No one wants to deal with this shit.”
Essek pursed his lips. “Unfortunately, we do not have that option. It requires a beacon’s influence, which is to say—”
“My fucking head.”
“Right.”
“How many people do you need?” Orym asked.
Essek glanced at the page. “Six. Twelve hands, I mean, plus the administrator’s—my own—and Laudna’s…so seven, really.”
Braius coughed. “I know I’m the obvious candidate to step out, but my faith goes with me to any body, so…maybe the little one? You’re all physical power, yeah?”
“Maybe everyone should just stay?” Orym proposed. “I mean, in case things go wrong. One person not in the ritual to help…stop things before they get bad?”
Imogen was clearly nervous, but she nodded, slowly. “Alright. We can deal with the ramifications if…if someone else became a Ruidisborn, or if someone else became dead, or…gosh, this is messing with my head.”
Essek nodded grimly. “Dunamancy tends to have that effect.”
The first thing Imogen noticed was the quiet. Even with the circlet, she was aware of her magic and the barrier that blocked it, a positive and a negative cancelling out. This was different. This was nothing at all.
And to be honest, having her magic gone was a little bit terrifying, as if she’d woken up with no blood in her veins or her bones turned to copper in the night.
The second was that everything seemed huge. She couldn’t see Laudna’s body atop the table because she wasn’t tall enough to see the table, and actually now she was looking around she could see her own body standing on the other side, and wow, were her thighs really that big? Hells, was Essek’s cloak really that long?
The shift in perspectives was giving her a headache entirely different than the ones she was used to, but there was one advantage: she leaped from her position near the door onto the table with no issue. Orym’s body was nothing if not agile.
She was on the table before she realized if she wanted to find her girlfriend (if they were still together, she had no idea how this contributed to things) that wouldn’t actually be all that helpful. Orym’s vision was incredible, though, and Launda always stood in a distinctive way—ah. Ashton. Their hip was popped out and his eyes were wide. There she was.
It didn’t take even half a second for Orym to reorient himself; the scent of flowers and poison was so strong he could only be Fearne. It was a little disconcerting to be tall, especially since Braius hardly seemed tall from this perspective, but that wasn’t important at the moment.
“She’s gone?” he asked their drow host intently, eyes darting to Laudna’s body on the table.
Essek nodded. “She’s gone.”
He watched his own body across the room vault onto the table right in front of him and then breathe a sigh of relief. “It worked,” his body said. “Laudna’s okay.”
Imogen, then. Imogen was in him, and he was in Fearne, and…
His eyes scanned the others, trying to catch any uncharacteristic behavior. ‘Chetney’ was probably someone tall, and Imogen was definitely either Braius or Laudna—who else would admire her breasts that way?—but a glance, he couldn’t place everyone. “Alright, who’s in who?” he asked in Fearne’s voice, trying to ignore his own body’s little giggle. Definitely Imogen.
“Aw, fuck, did I have to be the blue boy?” Chetney frowned, which felt odd in such a smooth face. “Of all you idiots, I didn’t think I’d be saddled with—”
“Well I guess we all fucking know who Chetney is,” the-body-that-was-previously-Braius muttered. “This is Ashton. Guess I’m still strong. Thanks, cow-boy.”
“Don’t mention it.” Braius said distractedly. He had originally looked down to identify himself, but instead he found himself utterly and completely entranced by “his” own chest, and the large breasts that he now sported. They were criss-crossed with purple lightning marks, and there were strands of lilac in his peripheral vision too, but nothing that compared to having genuine human mammaries.
Ooohoo, this is exciting. Fearne couldn’t help but grin as she flexed her now-Gnomish figures, imagining all the new crevices they would fit into and be able to steal from. As soon as she actually reached toward a bookshelf, her back started aching, and her excitement slipped. Right. In non-fae terms—and even to most fae—Chetney was fucking ancient. Better make it worth her while, then.
Fearne smiled, an act that seemed especially creepy on the elderly gnome’s face. “Does anyone want to have another threesome? I’d love to be the dog this time.”
“Hey, that’s my body! Be careful with it!” ‘Dorian’ said, waggling a finger at her.
“Ooooh. but I’m being naughty,” she replied with a wink. It didn’t quite have the same effect as normal, but it did make whoever was in her actual body facepalm.
“Fearne, he didn’t consent to that,” ‘Fearne’ said.
‘Orym’, who had leaped on the table, hit it with his palm. “Stop thinking about sex.”
“Oh, everyone is always thinking about sex,” whoever was in Imogen’s body said. “It’s like original sin. You should believe me, I’m the mind reader.”
“No, you aren’t! I don’t know who you are, but I’m Imogen!” Orym’s body said.
‘Fearne’, who was actually Orym, rolled her eyes. “Alright, let’s just get ahead of things. Dorian is actually Chetney, Chetney is actually Fearne, Fearne is me—I mean, Orym—I’m Imogen, Imogen is Braius, and Braius is Ashton.” He glanced to the genasi. “Ashton is Laudna, which means Laudna is Dorian. If I’m wrong, speak up.”
A moment passed.
“Great.” Imogen, currently in Orym’s body, decided to take over. “Ground rules, then?”
Essek sighed and pursed his lips. “…I’ll let you all sort this out.”
He did not have any desire whatsoever to witness whatever followed.