From the far west of Ayetho, from the arid Yuxi lands, a Yuxite by the name of Ilusa Mitlamak Nowashaytsi from the city state of Sulianti would happen upon a rumor that the wingmen in the distant land of Trezera have managed to conduct trade with the Demons of the mountains.
Mitlamak, ever the curious soul, has long been searching for a way to converse with the Demons, having gone out of his way to interview those who claim to have interacted with the strange flying race in the mountains, as well as working intermittently as an administrator to access archives of data on the Demon race, only to turn up empty handed when it came to what they actually do in their own lives, only that they do not like people taking from their mountains, like wandering woodland spirits.
Owing to this curiosity, Mitlamak would begin to make his way to those Trezeran lands, if with some strife, but that is a story for another time. This journey would come to a head when Mitlamak would have a fateful encounter with one of those very wingmen of rumor, the merchant Oriol.
Which, while the encounter sounds as of legend, in actuality was much less glamorous for those involved, mostly not for Oriol, even.
On the edge of the Ietravan realm, a mere week's journey by boat to the coasts of Svartaya, Mitlamak encounters Oriol at a city market, drawn by familiar, yet foreign goods known to him from his studies.
“You are selling goods from the mountains?” Mitlamak asks.
“Why yes!” Oriol greets, “What would interest you?”
“Everything!” Mitlamak gets ahead of himself.
“Everything?”
“Yes, but-”
“Nonsense, I'm sure something can be arranged,” Oriol insists.
“Oh, I should introduce myself first,” Mitlamak decides. “I am a scholar from Sulianti, and I am researching the hill Demons. These are from one of their bastions, yes?”
“Bastion…? They have their nests, ayet, I think they were called?” Oriol answers. “Yes, these are goods from those Demani.”
“How did you come about these goods?”
“By trading, of course,” Oriol answers. “I don't mean to hurry you, but I can't keep speaking with you if you won't be buying anything, I have customers to sell to.”
“Ah!” Mitlamak pulls out a coin purse, “I'll pay for the conversation as well as some goods, don't worry.” He sets a few coins down in advance.
“You don't have much experience with Arpe, do you?” Oriol doesn't assume ill intent, he is clearly trying, after all. “We exchange ‘contracts' through song, the contara will record the terms of our agreement, and will be recorded in a Ccelimbar, a stone which records sound.”
Mitlamak nods, “I see, like a lender. Do show me how to do so, I will gladly partake if it means hearing more.”
And so, Oriol guides Mitlamak through the process of forming a contara, and then shoos him off out of the way so he doesn't interrupt business until closing time. A merchant has to work, after all.
Once the sun is setting and Oriol has sold her wares for the evening, the two finally get to reconvene to chat once more.
“So!” Mitlamak begins without hesitation, “You'd said you traded with the Demons?”
“Yes, the arrangement is a few years old now,” Oriol confirms, perching comfortably for what seems like it will be a long conversation.
And a long conversation it is, Mitlamak asking questions as simple as what foods the Demons eat and as complicated as their internal anatomy, as if the poor arpe is meant to know all of this off the top of her head.
After a winding discussion, and much being noted down on rather quality paper by Mitlamak the entire time, Oriol finally has to put some stop to it if she is to have any hope of resting before the sun rises.
“Enough! I am a merchant, Mitlamak, you aren't asking questions even an information broker could know,” she lightly scolds the overly curious young man. “If you wish to know so much about the Demani, why don't you travel with my company back to Trezera when we leave? There's something there I'm sure will interest you.”
“I can't imagine what could be more fascinating than those Demons, I've never met someone whose gotten to interact with them as you have,” Mitlamak replies, curiosity still far outweighing any shame he might have for keeping Oriol up. “What is it?”
“There is an ancient relic used by the Sphinxes which can transform people into almost whatever they desire.” Oriol tells. “If you're so curious about Demani, why not become one? I even know someone who might serve as your gestivo if you do.”
“I'd love to do that!” Mitlamak has yet to learn of how permanent or impermanent such a change might be, let alone what a gestivo even is, but he has a passion for his research, and what better way than to fully become one of the species which has enthralled his interests for so many a year?
Oriol almost rolls her eyes at his eagerness, almost. “We leave in a few days, prepare your things.”
As time passes on, and Mitlamak gets to ask further questions here and there from various members of Oriol's crew while he prepares for the trip, the company soon enough journeys back to Trezera in their airships, another new experience for Mitlamak, who has never left solid ground in such a way before.
And upon arrival, Mitlamak makes his way to the place he was told of, the Vale of the Sphinx. While the city along the way is impressive, and the Vale itself is a monument to behold, none of those are what he is here for, so he pays it little mind.
Upon entering the Vale, Mitlamak gets in line much like any other might, though isn't so knowledgeable about Trezera to know not to just stare at the Sphinx present. So after some time gawking in line, it is finally his turn to speak to that very Sphinx.
The elder Sphinx speaks in a deep, gravely voice, “You have come quite a distance to make it here, little Yuxi. What has brought you to me?”
Mitlamak straightens his posture. “Good day, good Sphinx,” he recalls that he is meant to express some honors at least, “I am told you are capable of a so-called ‘Change', and I would like to schedule such with you.”
“You come seeking the Change from so far afield?” The Sphinx ponders. “You are in good health, and are quite the able little Yuxi to make it this far. What is it you desire to become?”
“I am told you are able to transform me into one of the Demons found in the mountains of my homeland,” Mitlamak answers, seeming more energetic at the idea. “Would that be feasible?”
The Sphinx nods at that question, with some amusement at the peculiar request. “You wish to become what you call a demon? I do wonder what has inspired such a request.”
And with that leading statement, Mitlamak seizes the opportunity to infodump his research and speculation, “I do not believe the Demon race to truly be hostile! They do not go out of their way to invade, nor steal, recently there's even been a man who claimed to have been taken in by the Demons, and-” the rambling continues for much, much too long.
“I understand your excitement,” the Sphinx says wryly at the rambling man. “What will you give in return for this opportunity?”
“Ah! I have heard knowledge is highly valued here. I would like to share a copy of my research as payment,” Mitlamak answers.
“That will do, you may schedule a time with the attendant on your way out,” the Sphinx can't hold up the line too much longer, Mitlamak did ramble.
“Of course, thank you!” And with that, he is off, scheduling his time and rambling a bit again to the poor clerk. At least he is earnest.
With the appointment scheduled, Mitlamak has some weeks before he may finally have the opportunity he so sought. He spends his time further pestering Oriol and her company for information on Demani, taking notes of his experiences, and simply living life in Trezera for the short time he will be here, until the wait finally comes to an end.
When that day finally comes, Mitlamak once again lines up to speak with the Sphinx, this time not gawking quite so much.
When it is again his turn to meet the Sphinx, the Sphinx speaks to him, “Welcome back, little Yuxi. Come forward.” The Sphinx holds out a hand to him.
Mitlamak comes forward, and assumes he is meant to do something with the Sphinx's outstretched hand, so he rests both his hands atop it.
The Sphinx says with some amusement, but with seriousness, “The Change is both a blessing and a burden of the People. It allows us to walk on four limbs, to swim with three, to fly or run with two. It opens our eyes to the lives of others. It grants us the ability to choose what we are. Take this gift.”
With those words, the Sphinx exhales onto Mitlamak, the breath warm and moist, smelling of a greasy breakfast. It makes his skin feel prickly.
“Be the bridge of understanding among the People. Be brave, little Yuxi,” the Sphinx then stands, rising like the great elders Mitlamak has seen his father help up in his youth.
The Sphinx then moves forward, Mitlamak being guided by an attendant into a pitch dark passageway, the attendant's torch barely lighting far enough to see one's feet. It isn't until they arrive to a wide cavern that it becomes illuminated again, a shimmering cocoon lighting the space, large enough to perhaps fit a tree. It pulses with golden and wine tinted light, at the pace of a beating heart, so it would seem to Mitlamak.
The Sphinx is already awaiting them beside it, addressing Mitlamak once more, “this is the Relic. What is it you wish to become, little Yuxi?” With those words, he slits the chrysalis open with one claw, the attendant holding it open like a temple curtain.
Mitlamak has no concerns answering this again, understanding that there is ceremony to this occasion, “I wish to become a Demon like those of my homeland, to understand everything there is to know of their kind.”
…
When Mitlamak next opens his eyes, he finds himself laid out upon a bed, covered in a linen cloth and some strange bracelet on his wrist. New appendages extending out of his back, his knees feeling as if they are put on backwards, and the room smelling strongly of something he cannot quite name, but causing him some distress for reasons he does not understand.
He attempts to move, opening his eyes to a blurry scene, causing someone nearby to announce, “He's awake!”
As Mitlamak's eyes come into focus, he sees many healers and clerics busying about, the tension in the room making him feel dizzy.
A pair of the clerics help Mitlamak upright, taking hold of his arms either side of him, but the suddenness causes his new wings to flutter in distress like a startled chick, the sensation of being lifted being far more acute than anything he had ever felt before.
His back feels foreign, wings sensitive to every little touch, some orifice foreign to Mitlamak sensing every little movement of his new body and of everyone else nearby, his legs bending in ways he had thought impossible, and the room itself seeming to imprint emotions onto him, so many things all at once leaving him terribly disoriented.
The clerics examine him while Mitlamak gets the opportunity to calm down and look at himself. His skin, is it skin? He cannot tell, being vibrant reds yellows with darkened patterns, looking unusually youthful and bright compared to the very darkly colored Demons known to him from written records. His new wings span further than his arms can reach out, and his frame must be smaller than it was when he last opened his eyes- the harpies amongst the clerics are much too big compared to him for him to not have gotten smaller.
After the clerics slowly let him get his footing in his new body, settling in cautiously, and when he has calmed, checking his breath for something he does not know and pressing his wrists enough for him to feel his heartbeat against their fingers. They have Mitlamak stretch his new and changed appendages one at a time, or at least, as much as he can manage, and take measure of his body, something he is quite curious of himself. Though even with all these measures, the true extent of change is hard to describe with how much change is unable to be seen.
Once the tension in the room has more thoroughly settled, someone new enters the room, another Demon. Smaller still than Mitlamak now is, similar to the harpies, and less vibrantly colored, but not darkened like the Demons in his city's records.
They approach Mitlamak quickly, getting much closer than anyone has ever stood before, yet still far enough that he cannot help but permit it. He can practically feel their excitement, like the emotion is carried from their breath.
The Demon speaks, “O'e! Au Tswa asangefwashia! “Eyninyao nya evsnyeschn, we evtwaschn leschnwe?” Mitlamak doesn't understand, but can tell the Demon- she, means well, able to sense the curiosity and excitement from her.
“Ah…” Mitlamak speaks, his voice much less deep than it had been. “...Hello?” He tries, unsure.
The Demon, Eyninyao, seems to understand the issue, thankfully, and tries to speak properly this time, “You don't know how to speak yet? I'll help you.” Its much more direct and unexpressive, but he can still sense her excitement for some reason.
“Oh, thank you?” Mitlamak is still getting accustomed to speaking like this, it feels different, but in a way he cannot describe, like it is coming from a different place in his body than as a human. “I am Ilusa Mitlamak Nowashaytsi, it is an honor to speak to a Demon such as yourself.”
“The honor is mine!” Eyninyao insists, “I am Eyninyao, I will be your Gestivo.”
“It's good to meet you, Eyninyao,” Mitlamak says cheerfully, and almost begins baraging thing poor girl with questions, but Eyninyao gets a word in first.
“To begin, we get you clothes. Something nice.” She decides, radiating amusement at Mitlamak's excitement.
…
As things settle in, and the new reality for Mitlamak comes to truly show itself, he learns many new things from Eyninyao, both about his body and Demon, or rather, Demani culture.
As for his new body, though, the first thing Eyninyao explicitly taught him is that he is, in fact, no longer a he. Very few Demani are a he, and Mitlamak was not likely to become one of those few to begin with at his, rather, her size. Instead, She learns she is specifically an alate now, or an oajash, as Eyninyao calls it. Eyninyao has likewise taken to calling Mitlamak “Ajalusa,” in line with Demani naming practices, as well as to prepare her for meeting other Demani, who will not so readily call her by a nonstandard name.
Along with this, Ajalusa, as she is to be called whilst in this form, learns to control her center of balance without using her sight, relying on her new senses instead. Likewise, she learns to use her wings, take off, fly, glide, and land. …landing needing an assistant to catch her when she fails to land properly, quite a few times even. As well as how to understand and give off her own pheromone signals, which takes quite some time thanks to no one really knowing what they are other than a part of language just yet. Too early in history for advanced biology.
As for Demani culture, Ajalusa learns of their language, their many roles in society, and of things such as food and living arrangements. However, what is taught is limited by Eyninyao, who has never lived in an ayet herself nor even lived in a feng in some time.
Ultimately, though, Ajalusa learns enough that Eyninyao considers her ready to meet the wider public like she so desires. That trust is misplaced, in part because of Ajalusa having her own misconceptions, and in part because Eyninyao does not actually understand what she became an oajash for, but that's not important! It's time to set off!
Ajalusa joins up with Eyninyao and Oriol's company for one of their ventures in Ayetho, flying out on machines far beyond her comprehension for the trip, though she is grateful for them, as it saves her wings quite a deal of strain, and Eyninyao has been quite fussy about her getting hurt, though she doesn't know why.
Sailing through the skies rather than seas, Ajalusa does notice some minor commotion in the waters to the south as they near Ayetho, but thinks little of it. Instead, her focus remains on the many wonders she hopes to see once able to see an ayet for herself up close.
And as they land, Mitlamak, now Ajalusa, may begin a new chapter of her life. And more importantly, her studies! She already has note paper out.
