The shrouded ghost of a boy followed his Queen through the halls of her castle to her throne room. It wasn't often that the boy was allowed to leave the Queen's room, much less that he was allowed in the throne room. He always loved the stained glass windows and polished marble floors of the lofty chamber. It made the room feel holy or surreal in some small way.

"Now then, boy. I need you to work your skills for me this afternoon. We have captured a girl. A pretty one," said the beautiful woman, the Queen Seriphima.

The boy hated his job. He didn't really remember how or why he had it, but he despised it nonetheless. In fact, he didn't remember much of anything. He had no name, no family, no beginning or end. He just was, and for now, he was the Queen's. When he was first given to the Queen, she had used him other ways, abusing his beautiful form for her own pleasure. When she found the true power of his abilities, she devised other uses for him.

The girl was already waiting for them by the time they entered the throne room. The boy thought she was very pretty, the scar across her nose giving her a unique beauty. It was unfortunate the Queen didn't find it so.

"You have been charged with trespassing, gypsy. Talitha, isn't it?" asked the queen, reclining in her throne. "Now then Talitha. I am a merciful woman, or I like to think myself so. I intend to let you go. For a small price."

Before Talitha could speak, the Queen turned to her boy from the mirror and spoke in a melodic voice, "Mirror perfect, Mirror true, bring to me her beauty's due."

"As my lady commands," the boy replied in a light, elegant voice. He walked, or more like glided, to where the girl had been kneeling on both knees. When he reached her, he knelt in front of her, their knees touching.

Talitha shivered, the frosty air coming from the boy chilling her to the bone. As she looked at him, the light around him seemed to shimmer in a blue hue.

"I'm sorry," he offered, looking her dead in the eye before glancing downwards and reaching his hand out to grasp her neck. His unnaturally pale flesh was almost painfully brusque on her own, causing her to gasp and wince at the sensation. The only hint that the boy was not made of stone was the pinkish tint around his knuckles and palms where blood still flowed. Although he applied no pressure to her throat, Talitha began to gasp and gag. Her eyes opened wide and froze in fear. Then, the boy pulled away, looking immensely sad and guilty. When he had reached the throne dais once more, he said, "It is done, my Queen."

"Guards, bring Talitha here beside my throne and summon my nephew. The girl will see her brother's punishment," Seriphima commanded.

Talitha attempted to refuse, to say anything, but when she opened her mouth to talk, nothing came. She tried screaming, over and over, yet not a sound could be heard from her mouth.

"Oh, my dear, we all must pay a price for beauty. Well, all but I." she said with a feline grin.

Two guardsmen lifted Talitha off the ground by her arms and dragged her up the steps to the throne. Talitha was so fixed by fear for herself and her brother that she could not move. She began to cry, still silent despite the movement of her lips.

The doors opened and in came Nicu, escorted by a burly guard in the Queen's pageantry, a black raven on a purple field. As Nicu was led and forced to kneel at the base of the dais, he couldn't draw his gaze from his mortified sister, weeping soundlessly. She could not force herself to meet her brother's gaze, knowing that he would soon meet a horrible demise.

To the right of the grand obsidian throne, a side door opened, and in stepped a tall, handsome young man with a careless expression. He had round, sunken eyes and ovular lips. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back with care. His high cheekbones and shallow jowls showed his nobility and attractive appearance. He wore a black and gold doublet with trialling wing sleeves which fell past his knees. The wing sleeves opened at the elbows, which revealed tighter navy blue sleeves which ended at the wrist. His pantaloons were also black and ended below the knee, where they were tucked into leather boots.

"Nephew Malecai. It is so nice of you to join us," said the Queen in an almost bored tone, glancing over her shoulder to see her relative.

"I am ever at your service," replied the young man in a slow, regal tenor voice. He spoke with as if a serpent, almost hissing his 's's. He seemed to be only as old as Nicu, barely yet a man.

"We have trespassers in our midst. My lovely Mirror boy took care of the girl, but it seems I still have another annoyance to worry with. Seeing as fate and blood did not gift me with your skills, I have no way to dispose of him short of death. I was considering of toying with him, but he's a little young for my tastes. Do with him what you will. Perhaps you can find a use for him," said the Queen in a slow, almost painfully playful voice.

"As you command, so shall it be," replied Malecai, a malicious glee entering his grayish blue eyes. The young man stepped a few feet in front of Nicu and held his palms outward, facing the prisoner. Malecai closed his eyes and began mumbling in what sounded like a foreign language. As he spoke, Nicu felt a tight pain in his lower chest. The longer Malecai spoke, the worse the pain became until Nicu was clawing at his pectorals, leaving red marks where his fingers trailed. Nicu's breathing hastened, his chest heaving with deep gasps, in and out. The young man cried out in pain as an echoing crack resounded from his pulsating body.

Nicu's spine pushed against his vest as Malecai's chanting grew louder. Nicu's once handsome face was distorted in pain as the muscles in his back twitched and jumped. His rib cage cracked and expanded before his very eyes, each rib drawing the skin further away from his body and tighter over his bones, his once muscular, acrobatic physique replaced by monstrous sinew and bone. His arms lengthened as they held his body in prone position on the cold floor. The flesh was pulled tight over muscle and ropes of throbbing veins writhed as his bones rearranged and snapped. Finally succumbing, Nicu's multicolored vest ripped as his back arched, spine rising to the surface of his taught skin.

Nicu grunted, screamed, and shrieked over Malecai's beating chant. The changing young man's face pushed out into a feral muzzle, ending in a pointed snout. As Nicu's frame expanded, his skin darkened to an ashen gray color. His ears rose in sharp tips as Nicu's voice dropped many octaves from its previous cocksure baritone. His once rigid stomach drew sharply inwards with new, grizzled muscle as his rib cage barreled outwards. His neck expanded in girth as Nicu's face became increasingly lupine. His feet elongated, veins and bones popping as they took on a quadruped shape more suited to a canine than a man. Finally his shoulders broadened, giving his frame a more proportional look.

Where once knelt a young gypsy boy now crouched a large wolf beast of bone and lean muscle. Sweat dripped off the monstrosity's dark flanks and chest as it whined and panted, too tired to move. It's scared eyes darted around the room one last time before it collapsed. The only indication that the beast had once been a man was the shredded remains of Nicu's brown trousers which still clung to the wolf-creature's thick thighs.

Talitha tried once more to scream as tears rolled down her cheeks for her lost brother. Malecai smiled at his work while four guardsmen hefted the creature out of the room and back to his cell.

"Wonderful work, darling," Seriphima said, smiling at her nephew. "Guards! Take the gypsy girl back to the village. I have no further need of her. If she does not cooperate, kill her.

As Talitha was practically carried out the castle gates kicking and soundlessly screaming, she could her her brothers frightened howls emanating from the dungeons.

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