The Sacrifice of Light 2

The radiant light around me dimmed, shifting from blinding brilliance to a softer glow. I glanced around the room—if you could call it that. Everything here was made of light, walls, floor, even the air itself. In front of me stood a single figure, radiating pure authority. It was unmistakably God.

I stretched, or at least I think I did. It was hard to tell without a real body. My form felt fluid, more like an idea of myself than anything physical. Still, it was enough to feel smug satisfaction.

"So," I said, breaking the silence, "how'd you like the show?"

God's glowing form pulsed, almost like it was smiling. "It was... compelling. You planned the entire sequence well. Her sacrifice, the emotions, the drama—it was a story worth watching."

I grinned inwardly. "Glad you think so."

"But now," God continued, "what do you plan to do next?"

I gave a casual shrug, or the closest I could manage in this shapeless state. "What else? I'll live. Or, well, I'll live as her. Just watch."

"You have confidence," God said. "I hope it's not misplaced."

"It's not," I replied smoothly. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get on with it. My new life isn't going to start itself."

God's form brightened, a final acknowledgment of my resolve. "Then go, chosen one. Make of this world what you will."

A strange sense of finality washed over me. I took a deep breath—or what passed for one in this strange liminal space—and prepared myself. The light around me began to intensify, and my vision blurred. Slowly, everything started to fade, as though the world itself was being pulled away.

As the edges of my consciousness dissolved into comforting darkness, I couldn't resist a final parting shot. "I hope you enjoy the show," I murmured, my voice echoing faintly. Then, nothing.

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The next thing I felt was... strange. My entire being tingled, like I didn't quite fit in my own skin. At first, I couldn't move. My limbs felt heavy, as though they weren't mine. But gradually, the sensation began to settle, and it was as if my soul was adjusting to a new body. Bit by bit, the unfamiliarity faded, replaced by a sense of connection.

When I finally opened my eyes, I was lying in a bed. My head throbbed with a dull ache, but what struck me immediately was the clarity of my vision. Even though it was the middle of the night, I could see every detail of the room—the texture of the wooden beams above me, the faint cracks in the walls, and the soft glow of moonlight filtering through a small window. It was almost unnerving how sharp everything looked.

"What the..." I muttered, and froze. My voice was high and soft, unmistakably feminine. I blinked, caught off guard by the sound. "Is that... me?" I asked aloud, experimenting with a few more words. The voice was smooth, pleasant even. I liked it.

A sharp pulse of pain cut through my thoughts, my headache returning with a vengeance. I groaned and raised a hand to my forehead. That's when I noticed it—my hand felt... different. The texture was softer, and the tips of my fingers and the palms of my hands had a strange firmness to them. I looked down and saw fur, silvery and smooth, covering my hand up to the middle of my upper arm. My fingertips and palms ended in small, soft pads like those on an animal's paw.

"What the hell..." I whispered, flexing my fingers experimentally. The pads felt unusual but oddly natural at the same time. I stared at my hand for a while, trying to process it all.

Finally, I sighed. "I'll figure this out tomorrow," I mumbled to myself, lowering my hand back to the bed. My headache still throbbed, and the weight of everything that had just happened was starting to settle in. Exhaustion won out. I closed my eyes, letting sleep claim me, knowing that tomorrow would bring even more surprises.

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I woke to an incredible smell wafting through the air. Somehow, I immediately knew it was buttered toast with an egg and a glass of milk. My stomach growled, and I opened my eyes to find sunlight streaming through the window. The warm rays made the fur on my arms shine slightly, catching my attention for a moment. It shimmered faintly, almost mesmerizing. I turned away from the light and to my right, where I spotted a maid standing beside the bed, holding a plate with the very breakfast I'd just smelled.

"Good morning, Your Highness," the maid said with a polite bow, her voice warm. She stepped closer and carefully placed the plate on my lap.

I blinked at her, still groggy. "How long was I asleep?" I asked, my voice still soft and unfamiliar.

"Almost a week," she replied with a gentle smile.

A week? My eyes widened as hunger suddenly hit me with full force. Before I knew it, I'd devoured everything on the plate. The buttered toast, the egg, even the glass of milk—it was all gone in moments.

The maid took the empty plate from me and placed it on a nearby table. As she moved, I noticed something odd: my tail was swaying slightly behind me. The sensation was strange but satisfying, like stretching a muscle I hadn't known existed.

The maid turned back to me. "Would you like to get dressed, Your Highness? The king wishes to see you."

I nodded and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The moment my feet touched the floor, another strange sensation washed over me. "It feels... weird," I muttered, wiggling my toes. My feet, like my hands, were now covered in fur and had soft pads on the bottoms. The stone floor didn't feel cold or hard at all, yet I could still sense every detail of its surface.

Standing up was an adjustment. Balancing felt slightly different, but after a moment, I steadied myself. As I stood, I caught sight of something across the room: a tall mirror. Curious, I walked over to it, each step reinforcing the strangeness of my new feet. When I finally reached the mirror, I froze.

I was naked.

I stared at the reflection, taking in the silver fur, the fox-like ears, and the long, fluffy tail swaying slightly behind me. "I'm really... a girl," I muttered to myself. The realization felt surreal. Despite the fact that I wasn't cold, I could tell the room itself was chilly.

"You look beautiful, Your Highness," the maid said gently, standing a few steps behind me. Her words pulled me out of my thoughts, and I glanced at her reflection in the mirror, catching her warm, encouraging smile. She had brown hair tied back neatly, with fox-like ears peeking out. Her maid uniform was spotless, a classic black-and-white design, with her tail swaying lightly through a tailored opening at the back. I noticed she wore shoes, a clear sign she was a normal fox demi-human, not a rare race like me.

"Let me help you dress, Your Highness," the maid said as she approached with a white dress and began guiding it over my body. When she reached my tail, she gently grabbed it to fit it through the hole in the back of the dress. A sharp sensation shot up my spine, making me flinch.

"I'll do it myself," I said quickly, feeling a little embarrassed. The maid stepped back, allowing me to adjust the dress. It took a few minutes, and the sensation still felt strange, but I managed.

As I adjusted the dress, curiosity got the better of me. "Do you know what happened to me a week ago?" I asked, glancing at her.

The maid paused, her expression shifting to something more solemn. "Yes, Your Highness," she replied softly. "The real Princess Lirien sacrificed herself and gave her body to the soul of the hero." She straightened, offering a small, respectful bow. "I am your personal maid, assigned to serve you. From this moment forward, I am under your command."

Once I was dressed, the maid gestured to a chair by the window. "May I brush your fur, Your Highness?"

I hesitated for a moment but then nodded. "Sure."

She started with my legs, her movements careful and precise. The sensation was unexpectedly soothing. She worked her way up to my arms, then moved to my hair, untangling it gently. Finally, she began brushing my tail. A wave of comfort washed over me, and I found myself relaxing completely. "This is... really nice," I admitted.

The maid smiled softly. "I'm glad, Your Highness."

After finishing, she stepped back and gestured toward the door. "Shall we? The king is expecting you."

I took a deep breath and nodded. "Lead the way."

She guided me through the corridors of the castle, the rhythmic tapping of her shoes contrasting with the soft, almost soundless steps of my padded feet. The castle was grand, yet there was an undeniable sense of wear and age—cracks in the walls, faded banners, and the occasional missing tile in the floor. Despite that, it held a certain warmth, a place that had been lived in, fought for, and endured through hardships.

As we approached the throne room, two guards stood at attention by the large wooden doors. One of them gave a firm nod before stepping forward. He lifted his spear slightly and banged the base against the floor twice.

"Announcing the arrival of Her Highness, Princess Lirien!" his voice boomed through the vast hall beyond.

The doors creaked open, revealing the grand throne room inside. And at the far end, sitting upon the worn but dignified throne, was King Harald—waiting for me.