Rise

Chapter 2

2

I threw open the door to my room, tossed my sword on the bed and went straight to the wall of mirrors that were my closets.

I was indeed beautiful. More beautiful than I had ever been in my life.

I started to pose before the glass, turning side to side, stretching out my wings to get the best angle to admire myself. My hair moved on its own, there was no breeze in the room and yet it undulated and curled around me subtly, always framing my face just so. I gazed at my curves; my breasts were high and firm, and my ass was rounder and prouder than ever. And my legs! They were long and lean and yet supple through the thighs. Here before me, in the bright reflection of the mirror, was my perfect self.

I heard a soft click as the bedroom door closed and saw Grog and Brog at my feet, reflected in the glass.

“Hey, guys! What do you think?”

They didn’t say anything. Brog tottered a bit as he dug his stony claws into the carpet, the chunk of stone missing from his head was more pronounced in his reflection. Grog looked at me in the glass, I watched him take in every inch of my new body.

“You look beautiful, my lady,” he said quietly.

“Thank you, Grog. You’re the first person to say that,” I smiled at myself. “Not that I need telling, I look fantastic! It’s almost a shame to put clothes on.” I winked at the gargoyles, they didn’t move. “Come on, guys! Say something, please. I’ve just been through this amazing metamorphosis, my body is finally back and better than ever, and everyone is acting like I’m a freak or something.”

“It just happened so fast, my lady,” Grog said slowly, “It’s a lot to take in.”

“You don’t look right.” The words tumbled quickly from Brog’s mouth. “Your eyes are too bright. And your face looks funny.”

I jerked like I’d been slapped. Usually one could count on Brog for some home-spun truth, a bit of honesty wrapped up in a cuddly stone package, but he was saying some crap right now. I stepped up to the glass and looked closely at my face. It was beautiful, the planes of my cheekbones where high and smooth, the arch of my eyebrows subtle and flattering. My lips were full and lush, curved pleasantly into just the hint of a smile, even when I relaxed my face. Were my eyes too bright? No, they sparkled. The roundness was youthful, and the whites of my eyes had never been whiter. My eyes shone like the f*****g star I was. I glanced back and saw that Grog and Brog were still staring. I sighed heavily.

“I look beautiful; I don’t need a couple of gargoyles to agree with me.” I strutted before the glass, opening all the closet doors as I went. “Brog, you know my clothes, pick something out for me, and Grog, you’re good with the accessories, find some stuff that matches. I need to take a shower.” I left the ungrateful gargoyles to their work.

Thirty minutes later, I was making my way down the stairs clad in a skin-tight patent-leather silver jumpsuit with matching boots and sheath for my sword. The suit had long liquid sleeves with little rings that slipped over my middle finger so that it covered the back of my hands. A deep V plunged in the front and back, exposing the soft curves of my breasts and joinings of my wings. I let my hair go free, it was still moving gently around me on its own magical breeze. A small part of my mind wondered if that was normal, but the JLo loving side of me told it to shut up. My sword was sheathed in platinum and stood out again the milky whiteness of my skin as it nestled between my magnificent wings. The shower had washed the last of the battlefield dust from my feathers, and now my wings practically shone in the warm light of the foyer.

I stood at the top of the stairs like mercury, the element and the rock-star, every eye in the place turned to me. Well, they would have had there been anyone in the foyer.

“Where is everyone?”

“They are out helping the injured, my lady,” Grog said. I turned to him and noticed he was alone.

“Hey, where’s Brog?”

“He is resting.”

“Why?”

“He is tired.”

“Why is he tired?” I huffed, “It’s not like he does anything.”

Grog stared at me for a moment.

“He has been up for many hours helping in the kitchen.”

“The kitchen? Why?”

“We have been making food for the minions; there are a great number of them.”

“Can’t they make their own food?”

“Of course, but every little bit helps.”

“Right.”

Grog kept staring at me. The obsidian orbs of his eyes didn’t move from my face, I could feel them on me even as I glanced around the foyer. It was starting to piss me off.

“If you’ve got something to say, Grog, say it.”

He took a deep breath and smiled

“No, my lady. If there is nothing else, I will go check on my brother.”

“You may go.”

Grog nodded to me and padded back along the hallway.

“Oh good, you’re dressed.” Royal’s sardonic twang echoed through the front hall. “You better get out here.”

I leapt from the top step and, with my wings spread, landed smoothly in front of him.

“Impressed?” I asked.

“Sure,” he chirped and walked back through the massive oak doors.