Reality fades back in with the drums of a dozen different wars, mournful wails and the smell of burning flesh, I take a deep breath, the taste of blood and ashes filling my mouth, but instead of the usual grounding smell of bleach, I smell wood and earth. Another sniff brings back shards of memory, skin warmed by sunlight, eyes shielded in the shade of a tree, small fingers digging into loam and moss.

  My eyes shoot open and my heart starts to thump in my throat, I almost got lost in the calm, but I remember losing consciousness after morning injections and I recognize the tarry sludgy feeling of coming out of stasis. Except I'm not in a pod, I'm on some kind of nature room, they transported me somewhere new and are trying to make me feel safe.

  I almost start to hyperventilate as the adrenaline surges along nerves that haven't been unsedated in months.

  The weight of my body pushing down on the ground, scratchy cheap scrubs on my skin, my heart going rat-a-tat-tat under my ribs, slightly moist moss under my palms. Four things I can feel. Lemon menthol soap, loamy earth, freshly wet bark. Three things I can smell. My ragged breath slowing down, softly creaking branches. Two things I can hear. Warm sunlight filtering through leaves. Something I can see.

  I tilt my chin down and read the fabric label in my scrubs "70% recycled plastic, 22% synthetic resin, 8% reconstituted algae fiber", I look away, count to 30 and read it again, "70% recycled plastic, 22% synthetic resin, 8% reconstituted algae fiber".

  I'm not dreaming, I nudge [Reality Check]

  Not hallucinating either.

  I take a deep breath, denial isn't going to do me any good, the obvious happened and they finally decommissioned me, except someone had fucked up the drugs. I should be scared and sad, or maybe face my end with a sense of peace, so that I wouldn't burden the caretakers. But fuck that, I don't want to die shivering or crying or enlightened like a fucking coward. Rage boils up my throat like bile and my shoulders set with purpose, I'm going to die on my fucking feet!

  I feel my whole body thumping with barely restrained rage and I spring up out of the bushes, "MOTHERFU-".

  Instead of the usual bland sea of faceless people in uniforms and facemasks, I am surrounded by a menagerie of inhumans, chief among them two towering ogres and behind them an even larger giant bipedal beetle letting out a soft ominous growling.

  I try to twist and run, "OH SHI-", but I have to much too much momentum and because I haven't walked in weeks, my ankle instantly snaps under my weight and the last thing I register is someone screaming and the floor moving towards my face at record speed.

  Scarlet knew Ember wouldn't look like she would in her dreams, she had always known it and when Esther told her their registered gender, it hadn't really surprised her. She'd heard enough about how people were treated on Even and she had had pieced together enough through the years that she knew something was wrong.

  She had instead been worried about her being part of a plurality, she didn't know what to expect of Ember's soulmates, but she had been quickly reading up on plurality while they slowly weaned her, no them, of the enormous amounts of sedatives they were pumping in.

  She had prepared herself to see Ember hurt and scared and had practiced hours in the mirror on making her feel safe, she clutched a photo album she prepared, showing her new home and all the fun things on Nix and Nog they had talked about. Flyers for upcoming concerts, her favorite places to eat, the teahouse she always visited with her mother, the purple weeping willow she used to nap in as a kid.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  She takes a deep breath and makes eye contact with the medical lead, "Please wake her up."

  The healer is a lanky ebony dryad, they look a bit young, but they go over the cocoon with calm practiced motions, "Patient regaining consciousness, heartbeat spiking, but within tolerance."

  Quiet murmuring turns to silence as the dozen people in the room all focus on the cocoon, a white metal person-sized bathtub housing a cradle shaped tree, a few layers of leaves covering the top from view, data cables attached to the outer bark slipping in to the inside. It slowly begins to glow with soft sunlight as the waking sequence starts and soon the leaves would slowly peel back as Ember or-

  Scarlet takes a deep calming breath.

  The leaves would peel back as Ember or one of her soulmates would wake up.

  One of the medical workers, a Goliath Beetlekin, begins to hum a soft healing hymn. Partly to calm their patient, mostly to calm the the rest of the people there.

  But before the leaves can unfurl on their own, something pushes against them, a medic moves forward but is bowled over by a figure charging out of the canopy screaming, "MOTHERFUUUU-".

  Oily strands of hair covering a pair of deepset frantic eyes, pale sickly skin and a growling foaming mouth shoot out, followed by a surprisingly fast mass of body, "OH SHI-".

  The room rears back at the desperate animal growling, but as their first foot hits the ground, instead of continuing forward, their ankle snaps and the rest of their momentum turns sharply downward, the figure lets out a half a roar before their head hits the ground with a wet sounding smack.

  The medical team quickly recover their professional bearing and rush to their patient as Esther blocks Scarlet's view and drags her out of the room. Scarlet doesn't register what a word her Godmother says, the look of desperation and fear replaying itself on her minds eye, Ember was her fearless grinning sunbeam, not this desperate rabid man. What if that was one of the others Ember shared her body with or even worse, what if that was her, already broken beyond healing?

  This time reality comes back with a thumping headache and a familiar slur to my thoughts, I activate [Reality Check] before I open my eyes.

  Yeah, that'll do it, I take a breath and open my eyes, there's a blurred figure standing in front of me and I try to focus my eyes as I take in the room. I'm in the middle of a gigantic empty half-dome, the walls slate grey metal, the only features a large armored door with a darkened window above it. I'm sitting on an old faded red beanbag facing the only other piece furniture in the cavernous room, a simple wooden chair seating a stern looking woman wrapped in several midnight black layers of clothing, topped with what can really only be a witches hat, several pens, pencils, small notebooks and what looks like a calculator tucked in it's brim, a dark green ribbon embroidered with brown and crimson leaves.

  Underneath the brim is an elderly angular face, but instead of wrinkled skin, she has cracked stone, her face made from brown rock dappled with warm orange streaks.

  A joke about stoned witches dies in my throat as I make eye contact, two cold blue gimlets set in an unfamiliar expression.

  "Have you waken up?", I had expected a gravelly voice, but instead her voice rings in my ears with a crystal clear soprano. Still a bit dazed, I just about manage a nod.

  "Good, then I have a few things to explain to you, I understand you probably have a lot of questions, but these are matters of both import and urgency."

  "I- OK?"

  The woman gave a curt nod and began to read from the tablet in her hand, "My name is Esther, I am the head of the administrative labyrinth of the [Fey Lands of Nog], you have been extricated from [East Onderland] on [Even] so that you may complete your metamorphosis and become a [Fey] citizen.

  Normally a metamorphosis is a bit destructive, but due to the long time you spend restrained from changing and due to the high amount of curses placed upon you, we expect this process to be much more violent than normal.

  There is also the fact that you are part of a plurality, which will also increase the complexity of your transformation and often requires extra care afterwards."

  Looking back up she asks, "Do you understand what I have told you?"

  I shrug, "So, I'm gonna 'splode in here? Do you need me to write a will or is this more a last meal kinda situation?"

  The witch's eyes widen, but she stops whatever it is she was about to say and takes a deep breath instead, putting her tablet down on her lap before pulling herself up in an authoritative posture.

  "You are a valued and loved `[Fey]` in all but the most technical sense, we will not allow you to die by the hands of humans. This room is made to siphon away dangerous energies and substances, which we will use to shield you and ourselves during your metamorphosis and afterwards you will receive guidance and care from our most talented experts."

  Pulling herself up further, "This entire process will be overseen by 2 [Arch Druids], a [Spirit Sage], the [Shaman of Unknown Truths], [Grand Sage] Virabell and [Fey Queen] Titania herself."

  Her eyes pin me down on my beanbag, "You will survive."

  "Normally we would have more time to prepare you, but we are running out of it, I will leave this chamber and shortly after the doors close, we will dispel your mana restraints and your metamorphosis will begin."

  She stands, "Do you agree to this?"

  I can't do more than give a mute nod.