//------------------------------//
// Chapter 9 
// Story: Shattered Pentacle 
// by Starscribe 
//------------------------------//

“Slowly, Lyra. The last place you want to invite paradox is with your own pattern. Take as much time as you need.”
Her familiar spoke so gently now that his words were not even vocalized. She heard them just the same, through the gradually-strengthening mental link the two of them had built over the last few weeks. Strong enough to hear everything he wanted to say, but also weak enough to dislodge him when he got too nosy or annoying.
Lyra rested in meditative repose in the center of the Free Council's Hallow. The sacred space was hidden inside what she had always thought was a nondescript maintenance building at Canterlot Community College. As it turned out, the structure had been built around the Hallow.
The space was itself contained within a glass shell, entirely open to the sky. The floor was strange grass planted in a ring, so pale green it was almost white. And there at the center, an ancient wooden book-stand, with a leatherbound book open to a seemingly random page. The book and its stand were themselves enclosed in a dome of solid force, protecting the mana that flowed freely from Supernal heights down to this place.
Taking from that well required greater rank in the organization than Lyra had earned—but she was still welcome to visit and study, practice, and meditate.
Or in this case, learn a new spell so potentially dangerous that it might very well invoke the fathomless Abyss and unleash havoc into her own body.
There were wise ways to study dangerous magic, and ways that were not so wise. Thankfully for Lyra, she had friends who could guide her to the path of wisdom. 
That path represented a tome of soft tan leather as big as a paving slab, written entirely in an indecipherable script.
Or rather, everyone told her it should be. But when she read, Lyra found the words came to her as naturally as when Capper spoke them. If anything, she found the language of it awkward and clumsy, as though someone had tried to write a textbook on theoretical physics after a year of ESL.
“You are almost ready. Take your tool one last time, and speak the words. When you release the spell, prepare to contain it within yourself.”
She knew what that meant, kind of. Some magic was safe, the changes it invoked subtle enough that she could slip them into the world with little risk. Others, though—defied the fallen order of the world so deeply that the Abyss latched onto her magic.
Lyra knew the least about this awful corruption, except that it was the same endless black abyss that separated her vision from the Supernal forest. The same place where she spoke to a dragon formed of many parts, who told her to rip out her own heart.
Lyra lifted something from the empty ground in front of her. It was formed of obsidian, a curved irregular blade she had made herself. The leather for its handle was crude and uneven, frayed in places and with gaps in others. 
She had made every part of it, dedicated it with drops of her own blood. Capper called the writing on its blade crude, but still “leagues better than what some of my apprentices are capable of.” In the language called Atlantean, she had written the only thing that made sense. “To Live is to Grow.” Somehow, that phrase could be represented as a pair of two complex, overlapping glyphs. 
Importantly, using it grounded her magic, staving off the awful touch of the Abyss. 
“What do I say? The words in the book?”
Her familiar stalked along the oversized book, squinting down at its pages with visible disdain. “Not these. Mastering this rote is critical to reliable shape change without paradox—but not a rote written by a child with a speech impediment. The mudras are right, but not the words. Follow the gestures, and speak with me.”
Mudras—a series of complex movements, mostly with her hands. Each one invoked the different aspects of her magic, though she still didn't fully understand how. They guided the spell into shape, ensuring she could cast it the same way every time. When cast successfully, anyway.
Thankfully, there were no other students using the Hallow today, so no one to mock her pronunciation. So far, that was the only downside she'd found to working with her strange familiar. The cat had his own specific ways he thought things should be done, and that rarely aligned with the way other mages did things.
Trouble was, Capper's way worked better. The words made so much more sense when she copied his pronunciation, instead of theirs.
She did so now. “Once two wandered among the ancient pines. The swift spoke to the wise. 'Do you wish for all the forest to hear your passage? Walk beside me, not above. See as I see, and know what I know.' The wise knew what this would cost, that to know the beasts would be to relinquish a little of what was human. He did, and his eyes were opened.”
As usual, Capper's suggestions had nothing in common with the way other mages cast their spells. If she ever tried to just say nearby words in Atlantean, he would bite her ankles until she stopped. But of all the spells he'd given her so far, this one had particular meaning. Was he speaking from personal experience?
The last word left her lips, and all at once the spell was released. All her preparation and memorization, her painstaking calculations in choosing its variables and scope—struck her all at once.
There was no room left for doubt anymore—no place left in Lyra's life for believing magic was impossible and that her spells wouldn’t work. She would not be bound by the Lie anymore.
Such a powerful spell would normally demand some of her precious mana to fuel it, just enough to ease the passage of Supernal laws on the material world. But this was why she had come to the Hallow in the first place—mana flowed freely here, including into her spells. 
It worked. The air rushed past her, as though she'd just tumbled painlessly down a flight of stairs. But she wasn't falling, unless she could somehow fall into herself. 
She squealed in confusion and surprise as her knife tumbled from her grip, landing atop her borrowed spellbook. Seconds later, she was entirely swallowed in a prison of overlapping fabric.
“Capper, help! I'm... I think something caught me!”
She struggled and fought, but not even her body made sense anymore. Her fingers wouldn't close right, but still caught on the cloth underneath her, making her stretch further and further. She smacked sideways against cloth, which quickly entangled her. 
In seconds, she'd gone from serene discipline to a tangled ball, swallowed by a vast prison on all sides. Lyra screamed, but her voice no longer sounded even remotely human anymore. Now it was a desperate mewling, yowling, and gasping.
She might've spent the next several minutes thrashing around like that, trapped in a prison she couldn't see but could certainly smell. Fortunately for her, she wasn't alone.
“I'll admit, I've seen more grace from a first attempt. I did warn you about the clothing—without mastery of matter, it was bound to entangle you. It is usually better to remove before you change.”
Capper's familiar voice cut through the fear and confusion, at least enough that rational thoughts prevailed. She might be confused, she might be uncomfortable and afraid—but this wasn't unexpected. Lyra wanted to transform. She'd done this to herself.
She stopped struggling instantly, relaxing onto her back. As she did, her hands stopped adhering to every surface. She was still confined to a small, dark space, she was still confused and her body still didn't quite make sense. But it was a start.
A second later, light appeared in her world, an opening in what she thought was a wall. There was Capper standing over her at impossible size. His scent was similarly overwhelming—but not in the way she was used to. Lyra had met a few crazy cat ladies in her life, with homes smelling of ammonia and depression. 
This was something entirely different. Capper smelled like adventure, confidence, and blood. He smelled powerful, friendly, but not exactly safe. “Well look at you. Calico, isn't that cute. You're not going to blend into the dark very well with all that white fur.”
Somehow just seeing him move was enough to reorient herself. Her legs stretched out too long, but with all four of them under her, she could stand up.
Not like walking on her hands and knees—this was natural, not awkward and clumsy. Her legs knew what they were supposed to do, even if she didn't.
She stumbled out through the opening, shaking her paws free of whatever had been holding them. Then she was out in the open, with the freedom to stretch. Her eyes narrowed in the true sunlight streaming down from the open ceiling. 
“Mirror over there. Every mage wants to see one when they change. Suppose they forget the transformation they were intending in the time it takes to occur. If it helps, you are a cat.”
She already knew that. But Capper was right—she wanted to see. Fortunately, the Hallow had mirrors spaced regularly along its length, arranged to create an illusion of perpetually reflecting eternity with only the strange book in focus.
But if she pawed her way over to one, Lyra could still get a clear view. 
She would've described that view as a thin, lanky calico. Her body was mostly white, though broken at random with splotches of yellow, black, and orange. She touched one paw up against the glass, and found it every bit as strange as she expected. “It worked.”
“I told you I would teach you.” Her familiar settled onto his haunches beside her, looking particularly smug. “You shouldn't be so surprised. With greater mastery, you should be able to alter the individual traits of the animal form you take. The easiest transformation is this one—a translation of your human self into the animal. Your age projected onto their lifespan, your physical traits roughly scaled against a member of the new species. This is satisfactory when any form will do—less useful when you are attempting to remain hidden.”
She turned away from the mirror, then stalked towards Capper instead. She slid past him as any cat might, brushing against him so a little of her scent would mix with his. “Everything is so... clear.”
He answered with laughter. That sound was at once so strange for a cat and so familiar to Lyra that it cut through her thoughts. “You see the greatest danger here. It is not body alone that is transfigured, but mind. You must be a cat to control that tail, those claws, to breathe through those lungs. When the body is reminded of what the animal might do—you may find it difficult to resist. Fortunately, I have more practice.”
Lyra's head swirled with the possibilities. She could be something else—she was something else! How many other things could one person be? What lessons could she learn from each one?
“I can't wait to show—” She stopped abruptly. Her girlfriend couldn't see this, just like she couldn't see anything of her new life. If she had been watching, the spell would probably not have worked. Even if it did, she would be breaking mage rules by trying. “Right.” Her tail fell limp, ears drooping to either side.
“Don't look so glum. Your partner spends so much of her life hunting your kind that her perspective is changing quickly. Pity—the quintessence in her soul is one of the few effective protections she wields. Once it fades, even vulgar attacks will strike with force.”
Lyra's attention snapped back to him again, without any of the confusion that animal instincts had inspired. “Wait. That can happen?”
“Obviously. The quintessence finds a home in every human soul. To Awaken, you must cast it off. If none could, there would be no Awakened. Yet here you sit, asking silly questions while failing to notice what should be obvious to you.”
“What should be—”
The glass door hissed, and heavy footfalls shook the ground. Lyra squealed in surprise, darting behind the nearest object of any size—her spellbook, which was now tall enough to hide behind completely, if she kept her head down. But not so far that she couldn't peer up at whoever had come to interrupt her conversation.
Another familiar scent, albeit harsh and artificial. Peaches, mixed with the ozone she got from exposure to Akiko's overwhelming energy.
Reagan Hayes was almost unrecognizable from a few inches off the ground. Humans were so tall that focusing on her face took effort. When she spoke, she might as well be shouting.
“You... actually did it. Less than a month, and you've gone from whiskers and a tail to true transformation. Could work on your timing.”
Lyra emerged from behind the book, taking small, cautious steps. Her body remained tense, tail stretched out behind her. That should feel stranger—but becoming something else somehow meant its various parts all felt natural and familiar. So long as she didn't dwell too long on how that pile of cloth on the ground was what she should be wearing...
“Didn't I have until night? The schedule said no one was coming in until sunset.”
Her friend dropped to one knee, extending a hand towards her. “Aww. That's adorable. Guess you still think you can talk, huh?”
“But I—” She glanced sideways at Capper, who only tilted his head to one side. Right. She spent so much time talking to cats that she sometimes forgot others couldn't. “Can I still do magic?”
“Magic? Yes. Rotes? Not usually. The mudras were written for hands, which you lack.”
Something huge snatched her body, suddenly enough that Lyra yowled in shock. She flailed wildly with four claws, slashing at whatever she could reach. Until she couldn't. Her body went abruptly limp, legs falling slack under her. Was she under attack?
“Watch it with those claws, Lyra. Those are sharp!” She looked up, the only motion she could manage under such cramped conditions. Reagan had scooped her into her arms. A few fingers now had little red lines from her claws, deep enough to draw blood. Something tugged on her neck, not hard enough to pull her, yet somehow her limbs refused to respond. “One second. Let me just... there. Say something now.”
She didn't really want to. The same feeling that stopped her limbs from working also kept her mind from forming coherent thoughts. She was completely content, even though she was now fifty feet in the air with only someone's arm to hold her. “Why did... you…?”
“Oh good. It's working. Listen—Akiko just made a breakthrough. We need you at the Sanctum, like—yesterday. How much longer is this transformation gonna last?”
The longer she was up here, the more she could ignore the strange pressure on the back of her neck, and the numbness that came with it. “I... think... a while. Capper, how long?”
“Sunrise,” he answered, sounding almost bored. “I planned to introduce you to Canterlot from a different perspective. Show you what the mages on two legs never notice. I suppose we'll need to find another time.”
Reagan didn't follow her gaze—but her friend probably hadn't used the same kind of magic that Lyra might to understand her. She couldn't understand animals generally—she might even be listening to her thoughts!
“Sunrise,” she said. “Do you want me to... end it early? You'll have to put me down first.”
Reagan answered by holding her out in both hands, all the way at head level. That left her legs dangling weakly underneath, her body stretching further and further to find stable footing. “And deprive the girls of this? No way. You just... stay near my boots. Your familiar can come too. Just so long as he doesn't try anything. Little cutie like you...”
“Little is the operative word. We're not in the same order of magnitude.” Capper approached Reagan anyway, looking up with a rich helping of his feline disdain. But considering what Reagan had just implied, she deserved it.
At least she set Lyra back down. Once she had her paws safely under herself, the world made sense again. “If this is that important, shouldn't I be... human?” she asked. “I can end the spell, really. It isn't that hard.”
“When we get back. Easier to find a private place to change in the Sanctum, anyway. I know it doesn't bother you now, but you probably wouldn't want to be human this exact second. Not with half a dozen different clerks and sleepwalkers right outside this room.”
Right. Her tail tucked between her legs, and her ears folded flat again. She didn't know exactly what Reagan meant—but it was still there, somewhere. Probably better if she didn't probe it too closely. “Okay. Don't forget my knife. And my clothes, and... my purse? You can close up the spellbook and just put it on a shelf wherever. I won't be studying it anymore tonight.”
Reagan obeyed, or at least Lyra was pretty sure she did. Watching her move around all those things quickly got boring, so she was distracted with other things by the time her friend was ready to move them. A leather boot nudged her to one side, pushing gently enough that she didn't resist. “If we weren't on the clock, I'm sure you'd catch that butterfly eventually. Maybe next time, Heartstrings.”
Then they were somewhere else.