Things had gotten rather strange in the Silver Cities. There was a lot of reason for Aiden, Fiona, Godric, and Anwen to repent their visit to Nadia. Ever since the powerful female mage had used her failing gate crystal, nothing had gone right for them and things were about to get worse. "This is all your fault, you know!" Aiden hissed holding a flower bouquet and wearing a wedding veil across the face. "Jezebeth will mock me for all eternity!"

"Oh, come on!" said Anwen grinning slyly as Fiona silently stood in the "Father of the Bride's" place. "It isn't that bad! Just sneak away when you can! The guy's harem is huge! I'll bet you can hide among the other women and never be noticed!"

"You've got to be kidding me! I'll throw myself off a carriage first before I spend a night with this guy."

"You just need to buy us a few hours," said Nadia cutting through the chat. "Once I get my hands on the stone as agreed, I can use it to transform us all back to our original genders."

"Thank Elwrath!" said Godric rolling his eyes upwards. "I don't think I can stand wearing a ladies corset for even one second longer."

"Aw, there are ways I could help you with that problem!" said Anwen with a wink causing Godric to blush.

The whole mess the five currently were in had begun when Nadia had sent an emissary to the capital city of Talonguard to inform them that she would be unable to meet up with them for the anniversarial gathering in the memory of Godric and Anwen's late fathers, Lord Edric and Lasir. She was now fianceed to Cyrus and was reluctant to stray far from home. It would also be discourteous to leave her country now when she was so sorely needed for negotiations involving treaties and contracts her father had signed before his departure for Sheog. A lot of burden for Nadia's father's mistakes had fallen onto Cyrus and Nadia, and together they struggled through them.

Anwen had been the first to arrive at the Silver Cities for a visit. The restless elf warrioress had been exploring the wizard's capital, hoping for something that resembled elvish beer flavored with rare forest herbs. Instead she found a bar stool at a tavern crammed full of chattering young scholars of the very lowest circle. Anwen had just settled for a wine mulled from local, tropical fruits when a gruesome, diminutive creature dressed in overalls and bulging glass goggles scrambled up to her. It's claws made a rasping noise on the floor. Uglier than a dog with rabies, this "thing" was a gremlin, a creature that only the mages of the Silver Circle could summon, understand, and respect. Gremlins were very singular in that they were creatures that often slipped freely between the world of Ashan and some greater, undissolved mist. They had less to fear from the destruction of the world Ashan than most. They could always slip into the mists again, unlike the races created by the God-dragons, who were bound to Ashan as firmly as grass to sod. Yet, for the sake of curiosity, these horrific yet mechanical-minded creatures served the wizards as servants and infantryman in their armies. It was a beneficial alliance to the wizards, indeed. This particular gremlin startled Anwen by holding a wooden tube aloft containing a rolled-up note. Steeling herself, Anwen jerked free the scroll the gremlin offered, unrolled it, and began to read. It was from Nadia.

"We're found out already, Varkas!" said Anwen to her old friend. "And here I thought I was going to have a reprieve from my duties."

"A warrior never knows his first watch-fire or his last," said Varkas wisely as he patted his favorite hound on its head. The large, slightly stenched animal raised its head for a moment, then promptly flopped it down across Varkas' feet again.

"Yes. It is so," said Anwen nimbly before rising to her feet and checking the string on her bow, just in case it had loosened. It was a practice that spoke of Anwen's own emotional tension. The route to the Silver Cities had been long and dusty and arid. All she desired now was rest and a chance to rest.

The wizard's domed chapel cities were broad. The pathways of tiles laid on gravel or lines of stone block seemed to go on forever. For an elf who had just journeyed hundreds of miles across desert, this journey was a wearing one. Sweltering in the heat, Anwen sat down on the rim of a fountain whose centerpiece was a fish gushing water from its mouth. As she did so, the gremlin who had given her the letter scampered up to her and clicked its fingers. Two djinns arrived almost instantaneously, carrying a lectica, a litter looking like a transportable bed, between them. The gremlin handed two small silver coins to one of the djinn. Then with a bow, it pointed to the transport it had summoned.

"I think it wants you to get on, Lady Anwen," said Varkas with as much civility as he could for he knew Anwen would be proud. He was not mistaken.

"I am no weak, human peasant! I am a sylvan noble, and a master of magic and arms!"

"That is not at contest, my lady," soothed Varkas. "It is courtesy you are offered. You should accept. To be rude to Nadia's servant would be to be rude to Nadia herself."

"You are right, Varkas," Anwen relented softly, With much grace, she sat on her rump, letting herself perch as if she were on the ground in front of a campfire instead of feather-stuffed pillows, her ankles crossed for support. The gremlin squeaked to the djinn, and slowly for a magical creature who flew rather than walked, the djinn carried Anwen a quarter mile more to the largest domed structure in the heart of the city with domes of gold leaf and ceramic tiles baked from clay and powdered magic crystal.

One thing which Varkas lacked to aid him which Anwen was fortunate to have, was airy clothing. The mantle that she wore was sylvan. Fibers beaten from plants, hairs brushed from the manes of unicorns, leaves from the sacred tree, and silk woven from the nests left behind by moths- these were the materials used to make Anwen's green tunic and pants. Her boots, belt, and arrow quiver were fashioned from deerhide, yet another material prized by sylvan that could be reinforced by magic and skill of the craftsman to make them light and cool yet strong and swift. So it was, that despite the desert heat, Anwen's clothing did not create the discomfort of holding body heat next to her skin in the sweltering heat of the desert. Varkas had no such luck, however. Underneath his armor was spun wool and fur.

"You look unwell, Varkas!" spoke Anwen. "You take a turn on the litter."

"No need, my lady," mumbled Varkas forcing himself to pay more attention where his toes were going. He pulled his slouched shoulders back with the pride of a knight. "We are almost there!" He pointed directly ahead.

It was true. The base of an enormous tower minorete lay just ahead. Anwen shuttered. She had once been imprisoned there before Nadia had released her and Lord Bloodcrown had been defeated. Yet she stayed seated on the lectica the same as the djinn began to climb the winding staircase for her.

"Wait!" called out Anwen as Varkas fell behind.

"Don't be a hound and fall down on your face out of stubbornness," Anwen said sliding down the side of the litter. She pointed to the transport angrily. So cued, Varkas' favorite pet hound climbed on board the lectica. Accepting this trade of passenger, the djinn took off ahead. Seeing this, Anwen shrugged, then offered Varkas her shoulder instead. It was a very long stair.

But the sylvan general with long gold hair fair like the sun and an ebony bow that could sunder anything in its path as surely as lightening may split a tree, was very glad that she had come to this reunion of equals when she arrived at the top of the mammoth stair. Once she had dropped Varkas by the door to catch his breath, she peered inside the central courtroom of the Highest Silver Circle where they had fought Lord Bloodcrown long ago to see not just one familiar face, but four- Nadia, Fiona, Aiden, and best of all, Godric, her handsome long-time friend and ally. After staring at Godric so long that she had to wipe away a trace of drool, Anwen blushed.

"Hello, Anwen!" said Nadia, her face still bordered by lavender silk and a blue gemstone upon her brow. As always, her attire was billowy, sewn so that it hung to the body by its narrow cuffs more than anything else. Nadia looked tired but mostly well. She clasped Anwen's hands firmly.

"Friend! You are welcome in the Silver Cities!" Nadia declared. Anwen looked all around her.

"Is all well? There is no one to fight is there? No invading army of demons or necromancers?"

"None," Nadia smiled. "I have had a feast set up in the courtyard of the southern turret for you to refresh yourself after such a long journey. Any servant will show you to your rooms, if you have need of them. But for now, I hope you will stay and converse."

"Converse," said Anwen angling her head to fold Godric into her vision slightly. "Yes, I'll do that!" As soon as Anwen could manage it, she stood in front of Godric, the knight who traveled regularly in the company of angels and who was even more pleasant to her sight than one.

"Hello, Godric!" said Anwen merrily. "It has been a long time!"

"Lady Anwen," said Godric bowing as was proper for a noble knight. "I received your latest letter a mere two days before I departed for these Silver Cities. Has nothing changed since, then?"

"I've only come here," said Anwen, secretly pouting. "My journey here was doubly as long as yours for I started on the western edge of the continent."

"My condolences for your feet," said Fiona. Anwen studied the young woman.

"Humankind does age quickly! You are even more of a woman that I saw you last," was Anwen's compliment. Fiona's younger brother, Aiden, snickered.

"Yeah. She's full grown alight. Her and Prince Alexei keep making googly faces at each other."

"I heard that!" Fiona raged. "I may not be undead anymore, but I still have the skill of the art! Don't make me kill you then raise you as a ghoul."

"Like I'm afraid of you," said Aiden bluntly. He had, after all, faced all the demons of Sheogh on his own and they were much scarier than his older sister.

"Since we are beginning to quarrel," said their hostess, Nadia. "It would be best if we went down to the feast."

"Good idea," said Aiden placing a hand on the stomach below his belt.

"Very well!" said Nadia. They walked, not to the stair, but a large crystal.

"Is this a mystic gate?" Fiona blinked. "Why would you have one here?"

"The wizards are the ones who make most of the mystic gates, these days," Nadia put bluntly. "So we have kept a few for ourselves. This small ones leads to the southern citadel where our feast is."

"Then let's go!" shouted Aiden with much enthusiasm. They all crowded onto the tiny transport. Her back pressed up against Godric's, Anwen drunk in the sweet scent. The knight tried to ignore Anwen's presence until she whispered to him, "Cousin Findan isn't here to interrupt us now." Then the transport crystal began to shudder and shake and instead of teleporting them to where they needed to go, it split asunder leaving them all in darkness instead of its warm glow. Nadia brightened the air with an illuminating spell, her face full of worry as the light shed on all of them. Everyone of the five friends were accounted for but something was odd about them. Anwen felt just plain odd and more forceful than ever. Her shirt front slopped where her breasts should be. But nearly, choking, Aiden ripped his metallic armor off to look down at his chest.

"Ah, shit!" said the red-headed warrior as he looked down to a woman's breast that would put any succubus to shame. As he, now she, spoke, Aiden's voice rolled off the tongue in a sultry way. "Ugh..ugh...ugh!" Aiden stuttered. The spell had affected all of them the same- swapping the original birth gender of each. Things had suddenly gone all wrong for the five heroes. Nadia paused, biting her nails as she reflected on one of the largest mistakes she had ever made and hoping that she could find a way to fix it.