Nobody bothered the truck as it slowly made its way to Shangri-La, to Nestra’s complete lack of surprise. Vassily was keeping an eye on the freed slaves who were still high on something, while Aunt Clecle kept chugging various medicines, half wrapped up in blankets. Nestra’s paranoid nature kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. It didn’t. The universe was vexing her by being on her side. Between the relative calm and with Aunt Claire within arm’s reach, Nestra finally allowed herself to calm down, at least a little. The adrenaline fading from her system made her tired. At least she wasn’t hurt this time. It also gave her time to think. A gleam, huh. She’d waited for so long for that, and she’d also found her path. The true form. Having a proper gleam mask now would be… It would be really fucking nice. But also it was so late in her life compared to everyone else. She would be hopelessly behind. She would also finally, finally be in the race. There was no doubt that she would accept, of course. There was no question, not after the efforts aunt Clecle had gone through. The only thing that could stop her would be Sereth warning her it would lead to her discovery. If the operation failed, then that would be it, but what if it succeeded? Would she become like some of the people she despised? What would Stibbs think? What would it change about her life? Fuck, so many things to consider. But she wanted, she really, really wanted it, because it meant her parents might love her again. Wait no, not like that, more… they would know how to show that love. How to treat her like their daughter with normal gleam bonding moments: the training, the first raids. She wanted that so bad. Please, let it be that it wasn’t some sort of mistake. Or a scam. Let her have her hope. It was just really nice to go to his place for food and conversation. She had to admit that it was no wonder Stibbs had fallen for him considering she didn’t know he was a Kero Nut thief. “I was there,” Sereth mentioned. “With Stibbs and you present? Of course. I was interested to see that your world is so far from being united. Back on my plane, the Celestial Throne dominates all continents.” “And I should keep quiet as I am not supposed to knowledge with you just yet. Did you ask to see me because you wanted to talk about the surgery?” “Yes. A core, for me… I was hoping you could tell me I can go.” “Yes I can ‘greenlight’ it,” Sereth said, translating the expression into Aszhii like he was savoring a rare dish. “Core wounds become more frequent once raiders are resilient enough to survive them. I know little about healing myself, only that it should work on you. Just do not change shape during the process, obviously.” “What if… what if my body eats it?” “Your human body cannot eat a core, and your Aszhii self no longer starves. In fact, your training should make the process easier. I am guessing they are trying for a core transplant.” “It sounds that way.” “They will ‘liquify’ it, then implant it into you. It means the physical core will disappear and its content will reform in your mind palace. Since it’s a B-class core, a lot of the material will be lost, but it also means that your newly awakened core will be as strong as it should have been if you hadn’t cannibalized it. It’s not a risky operation for a D-class. It’s just that normally, D-class users would not have survived the loss of their core.” “It will be fine, Nestra. You are going to make it.” So flying to Zurich wasn’t apparently as easy as showing up at the airport. First, the ticket cost fifteen thousand credits and she would have to wait for three days because that was the only time there was a plane actually going there. Second, Nestra needed an emergency passport made which was only possible because she was connected. Third, that emergency passport needed a visa, and then an additional validation because Threshold had classified her as a D-class equivalent threat — thank you very much you fuckers. That was a lot of headache, but at least it wouldn’t last very long. In order to relax, Nestra shipped her Crescent ass to the Beacon for another assignment so she could vent by turning monsters to fine paste. Alas, Rangarok trapped her in the most vicious way possible. “You can’t be sssserious,” Nestra said in her seat in the old woman’s office. Anger was making her hissy. Remarkably little had changed after Ragnhild Lindstrom’s ascension to A-rank. She was still fulfilling the same role, and only raiding very occasionally. It appeared she still needed some time to stabilize her new powers. Nestra felt her presence all the time though, in ways that she didn’t with Shinran. It just went to show the amount of control that fake monk had. “Dr. Daniels petitioned the government for help. He has considerable pull among the American leadership, especially when it comes to research. A lot of cooperations between our universities could suffer if he is brushed off too aggressively.” “I don’t give a shit. I’m not interested in research being conducted on myself!” “There is no shame in being a transformation power gleam, Crescent,” Ranghild said. “I know this. Do they?” Ragnarok conceded the point with a tilt of her head. “Crescent, North America has a much higher incidence of transformation power than we do. This trend has come with its own set of complications. Transformation users tend to be… more unstable. There are regular cases of loss of control. It’s a serious issue.” “For all of us,” Ragnarok connected. “We are all humans trying to decipher a new world, with new rules. It has taken hundreds of thousands of years for homo sapiens to build the kind of civilization we lost during the Incursion, and even that was imperfect. It has only been sixty years since then. We need keys of understanding, and if you can help them out, I will ask that you at least talk to them in an interview.” “I’m not like the other transformers. They are close to regular or imaginary animals.” “For all we know they are real in… portals,” Ragnarok said. Nestra noticed the strange delay. Ragnarok probably believed there were other worlds out there, which was a common opinion. Why the hesitation? Bah it didn’t matter right now. “And yes, you’re a demon. The only humanoid one we know of. That is why your insight into your own power could be uniquely valuable.” “How do they even know I’m a transformation gleam, by the way? I never appeared without a mask.” “Crescent, your eyes are completely black, sclera included. Of course you are transforming to some degree.” “No, since you have never removed your mask and should never do so in public.” Nestra needed to keep track of who knew what with a list. Here were the people who knew she was an Aszhii: Sereth, Helena, Stibbs, Mazingwe, Shinran. Here were the people who knew she could change shape: Camille, Ragnarok, Valerian, Gorge, and his spawn. Here were the people who didn’t know shit: the rest of the planet. The rest of the planet didn’t know shit. Nestra amended that opinion. Her family was on that list. It wasn’t nice to them to say they didn’t know shit. “You will at least hear Dr. Daniels out. I notified him you were coming. He is in another room nearby so neither of you will have to wait long. Crescent, I can technically order you to attend the meeting, not as a masked user but as a citizen of Threshold. I will ask instead. Just hear him out. You might be helping people.” Nestra sighed. She wouldn’t help people because she wasn’t a transformation gleam. Any data they’d get from her would taint the pool, so to speak. “I can help him out. As an outlier, I’m just not sure how much help I can be.” “Thank you. As an additional incentive, remember that I am helping your trip to Zurich by accelerating everything I can. Does it relate to the fact you can’t access your core while untransformed?” “Yes,” Nestra said. “I should be able to use mana in human form afterward.” “Probably not at first,” “It might protect your secret identity then. As for the interview, I know it’s unpleasant but I’ll ask that you do it for me as a gesture of gratitude, if you won’t do it for mankind.” “Ah, stop it. I’m already convinced.” Nestra stood up. She had resigned herself to her fate. “Oh, one last thing,” she said, grabbing her backpack. “I got you a gift to congratulate you on your ascension… since I wasn’t invited to the party.” She gave Ragnarok a bag of round pale biscuits with red, jam-filled ‘A’ carved in the middle. “I used a robot to help with the letters. The flour is mana rich but I couldn’t get mana raspberry jam, sorry.” Ragnarok picked the bag with great speed but also a surprisingly gentle touch. She soon had one between two wizened fingers. “Halongrottor cookies. Homemade then?” “As I said I also used my cooking robot,” Nestra said. “Most people offered me rare metal ingots, which was also nice of course. Thank you dear. It was very thoughtful of you. I believe I will have some coffee now. Off you go, though. My secretary will guide you.” Nestra left with a smile. Truly, food was almost always a good offering. “Thank you for agreeing to see me,” Dr. Daniels said with a kind voice. He was tall but also muscular now that he was only wearing a simple shirt. His neat brown hair and golden eyes of a light user gave him some sort of corporate messiah feel she couldn’t trust. He was also B-class and a strong one too. That was a concern, because it was clear he had no qualms about pulling strings. He had her cornered both socially and physically. There was another male anglo gleam with short brown hair next to him, slightly more meek in appearance. He was C-class despite having no affinities locked which hinted at an older civilian. Perhaps a researcher. He had not introduced himself yet, and would not meet her eyes. Nestra didn’t reply because she hadn’t agreed. She had complied. To her, there was a difference. “I am Dr. Daniels, still with the Center of Magical Studies based in Austin. This is Dr. Nichols. We are experts in transformation powers —as far as the term ‘expert’ can even be applied. I appreciate that you didn’t initially want to talk to us and I wanted to thank you for agreeing anyway. We have crossed the ocean to see you, haha.” Nestra didn’t reply. She found it much easier to remain quiet as an Aszhii anyway. Maybe they weren’t that big on talking, as a species. Nah Sereth was a complete blabbermouth. Maybe she should play nice. Ragnarok had asked and Nestra owed the old woman some help. She was a good person. “Right. Let’s not waste anymore of your time. We have a few questions if you don’t mind.” Nestra gestured that they may ask. “Your power is very unusual. Many transformations lead to bipedal hybrids but you are the first and so far only pure, fully humanoid one. That makes you an interesting reference, a halfway point should we say. Are you familiar with transformation powers? Beyond your own.” “Not really. Basic research only.” “Right. The first transformation is usually considered an extremely traumatic event by most participants. How would you describe your own?” “Not very painful. Scary and confusing.” “I see. And if I may ask, was there any collateral damage?” “For the first transformation. Most losses and damage normally occur during and immediately after the first transformation while the user’s control is at the lowest.” He smiled a bit more. “Users will be confused, we understand. In pain. It leads to poor judgment, a perfectly normal reaction of course.” “No damage. I was home.” “I see, I see. So you didn’t leave your home during the first transformation?” “Did you perhaps have any memory lapse? Moment where the world felt unreal or that the transformation was happening to someone else? Unexplained movements through the house while you didn’t remember how you got there?” “No. I was conscious. Afraid and confused but conscious.” “I see. Have you felt instincts that you would qualify as inhuman while in your transformed shape? Something that you wouldn’t do normally?” “Eating raw meat?” Daniels asked with sudden interest. Nichols shivered. His terror was so obvious Nestra could smell it. He was perspiring heavily as well. “With tabasco…” Daniels whispered, seemingly confused. “Have you had any desire for human flesh?” Nichols asked with undisguised horror. “What the fuck is that sort of question?” “Sorry,” Daniels said. “What my colleague wanted to know is if some of your instincts push you to favor one particular kind of meat.” “No. Variety. And not just protein. I mentioned raw meat because I normally dislike it. Upsets my stomach.” Nestra didn’t like where this was going. Those people… were they really researchers? What the hell were they researching? Those questions were so loaded. “Changing topics,” Daniels continued. “What do demons evoke for you?” That caught Nestra off guard. “As you might know, transformation powers stem from a strong familiarity with mysticism, an obsession with mythology, or shamanic traditions. Most of those who transform were already intimately familiar with what we call a localized Jungian archetype, the local interpretation of a myth like the werewolf or the jaguar warrior. Hmmm.” He drank a bit of coffee. He was carefully handling the flow of the conversation in a way that made Nestra suspicious. Maybe he was just good at conducting interviews. Was she growing paranoid again? She resisted the urge to fidget. She could always jump back through the wall but light users were stupidly fast… “So I was wondering if you had any ideas about what a demon is, according to any mythology? It is present in Japanese Shinto faith as Oni, or Chinese tradition as Mo. There is also the Christian faith, naturally…” He waited for her reaction. Honestly, Nestra was stumped. Her parents had been so uncomfortable about faith growing up that their awkward ‘well of course you can believe whatever you want sweetie’ just led to a general sense of disinterest. That wasn’t what the two assholes wanted to hear, though. If she were really a human gleam, then she absolutely had to be familiar with demons to take the guise of one. Nestra picked one of her favorite childhood cartoons, a twenty-years old story about angels coming to help a post-incursion mankind by binding with random children. In retrospect it had been a sort of coping story for kids who felt powerless in a hostile world. “Hmm. Cartoons actually. I really liked Neressa from ‘Light as a Feather’.” She’d been an ambiguous devil character who frequently helped the good side. She also used a sword and didn’t take shit from anybody. Definitely a good role model for Nestra. “I see. A cartoon character. I see, I see.” They didn’t look like they were buying it. “Do the urges you feel while transformed also impact your human form?” Another loaded question. One that implied urges to begin with. “No strong urge while transformed. Better battle instincts though.” “Do you ever feel a compulsion to, shall we say, transgress? Demons are often seen as creatures that oppose the laws of heaven, the status quo and fatherly authority. They are rebels, at least in the Christian tradition.” Nestra shrugged. Those guys were just weird. What sort of question was that? Were they not interested in her powers or some such? It felt like being interrogated by an expert who was trying to build a case against her mental health. “Not really, no. It’s about freedom and hunting monsters.” “No urge to commit crimes for example?” Nestra shook her head. “Yet you were registered for the first time as C-class. Unless you were C-class to begin with, that means you were illegally raiding for an extended period of time, right?” “That was a conscious decision to get the best anonymity protection as a masked gleam,” Nestra deadpanned. “And I was punished for it.” “You made a conscious decision to break the law?” “Yes. To avoid situations such as this one, but you would also know about my civilian identity,” Nestra finished. Nichols was furiously writing something on a freshly pulled datasheet. Nestra had a bad feeling about this. “Tell me, how do you interpret the notion of sin?” “I won’t answer theological questionssss,” Nestra said, losing patience. “Please, it is important for our research. Indulge us?” Nestra considered her options. Fuck it, they weren’t going to advance the cause of science with her anyway. “Perhaps we should return to it later… or not at all! Our purpose is not to make you uncomfortable,” Daniels continued with his trademarked winning smile. “Would you mind talking about your monster hunting experience?” It was a raider’s favorite topic, at least before the first big losses. Nestra wasn’t having it though. “I don’t think your line of questioning aligns with any research I’d like to be a part of. I am leaving.” “No please, we could also just listen to your experience. It’s valuable data.” “Alright, one last thing before you leave. Your superior gave us authorization to get a few samples…” Nichols grabbed a black bag from next to his seat, revealing syringes. “No one can give that authorization but me. No.” “Please, this is important.” Nestra was done. She stood up, and so did Daniels. His mana flared. His jaw locked in a sign of anger she’d seen before, as a cop. She turned to the side, offering her left flank. Void mana pooled in her hand. Daniels relaxed so fast it was uncanny. He gave her one last smile. “Regrettable, but I understand. Thank you for your help so far. Goodbye, Miss Crescent.” Nestra left the room without turning her back. What the fuck had Ragnarok unleashed upon her. A ten minute dive in depths of the internet brought her an answer, and she sent Ragnarok a furious reply. “You set me up with fundamentalists! Daniels works for a lobby that seeks to regulate transformation gleams. He wants to create ghettos!” The answer was instant. “Yes? I assumed you followed transformation-related news? What I said about him being influential was correct. I assumed you knew and that was why you were reluctant to talk to him.” Fuck, it was Nestra’s problem for not working on her cover more a bit more.