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Chapter 759: Second Transformation

The next afternoon, Roland received Sharon’s ability report.

“That was fast.” He raised his eyebrows as Wendy handed him the test sheets. “Has she accepted what she is?”

“Yes—calmer about it than we expected.” Wendy laughed and recounted the previous evening. “Her parents raised a fine child, whoever they were.”

Hmm. The thought settled quietly. In this era, a person capable of that kind of far-sighted moral reasoning was rare enough to be called a pioneer. But perhaps this was how history had always moved: a belief passed down, generation by generation, until the numbers holding it reached a certain weight—and then the world shifted. A little spark, and the great fire followed. Mankind had probably always climbed toward civilization in exactly these small, mostly anonymous steps.

He studied the test results, paying particular attention to the evaluation of magic power. Sharon had awakened at fifteen, young even by witch standards, and her magic cyclone already measured above average—comparable, the report noted, to adult witches from Taquila. Phyllis’s handwriting, that last observation. Among the witches of Neverwinter, she was usually the most precise assessor of new arrivals.

Sharon’s ability was the generation of electric current. Wendy’s write-up on this section was somewhat vague, which was understandable: electricity was among the harder topics in elementary physics, and Wendy had been working from careful observation rather than theory.

At high intensity, the current consumption of magic power rose sharply—but the electricity became strong enough to shatter wooden planks and melt iron. At lower intensity, Sharon needed direct contact to produce an effect; she could light a bulb, for instance, though she tended to burn the filament. Her control was still erratic, as one would expect from a witch only days past her first bite.

Wendy’s recommendation: primarily a combat witch, with production potential to be developed over time.

Roland had no plans for a retest. He had no instruments to measure voltage or current precisely, so any retest would only produce the same qualitative picture. Besides, there was a principle at work here that mattered more than raw measurements: all effects produced by magic power—Anna’s blackfire, Sharon’s electric current—did not necessarily follow the physics he knew. They corresponded to theory only when they were transformed a second time into other effects. Until that transformation occurred, the raw ability was its own law.

What was already clear was that Sharon had real potential. He was curious to know what a full understanding of electric current might unlock in her—what her power would become once the second transformation happened, and how much her magic capacity would grow as she aged. For now, though, he would follow Wendy’s recommendation: let her practice at her own pace, catch up on her studies, and settle into the Union without pressure.

He thought of her sense of justice, and had a brief, vivid image of her years from now—badge on her coat, lightning crackling at her fingertips, walking the streets of Neverwinter at night. An electricity-generating young lady patrolling the city and arresting criminals. The image was, for reasons he did not explain aloud, exceptionally familiar.

He nodded at Wendy. “We’ll do exactly as you’ve recommended. Thank you.”

“My honor, Your Majesty.” Wendy bowed.


When Roland came back to his office after dinner, he found that Lily and Mystery Moon had both joined Nightingale inside. The three of them were clustered around the desk, apparently in the middle of an argument.

“Look at this,” Nightingale said, gesturing toward him as he entered. “They look so real—it’s unbelievable.”

“What is it?” Roland approached, and only then saw the two pots of Bird Beak Mushrooms on the table. One pot looked shriveled and dull, like something that had been simmering in stock for hours. The other was plump and glistening. He pinched a stalk from the fresher pot; sap welled up immediately, cool against his fingers. “This is quite fresh. Did Lightning pick these on patrol?”

Nightingale and Mystery Moon turned to look at Lily in unison.

Lily shrugged. “I made them with my magic power.”

“Oh,” Roland said automatically—and then caught himself and went very still. “Wait. You made them? With magic power?”

“Her cohering ability has changed,” Nightingale explained. “If the first evolution added the pattern—the purple worm—then the second evolution has added a new layer. Her magic power capacity has grown as well.” A small pause. “To put it plainly: Lily’s ability has evolved a second time.”

“They’re still worms,” Mystery Moon added, unable to help herself. Lily shot her a look of pure disgust.

Roland picked up another mushroom and turned it over in his fingers, thinking quickly. “You’re able to make a swarm of parent worms take any form you choose?”

“Yes—but the target must be something observable through a microscope, and I need a suitable sample before the assimilation can proceed.” Lily nodded. Her expression was composed, but the light behind her eyes said everything she wasn’t saying. “Bird Beak Mushroom spores are relatively easy to observe under magnification, so I started there.”

Fungal spores. The building block of fungi. Roland’s mind moved ahead of his words. To Lily, any organism invisible to the naked eye could now, in principle, be controlled and replicated. The implications were staggering.

“Excellent,” he said, and reached out and pressed his palm to her forehead in praise.

Lily didn’t pull away. She didn’t roll her eyes. She lowered her head and accepted it quietly.

“And what about me?” Mystery Moon’s voice came out plaintive. “Your Highness—my bedroom is uninhabitable. There are Bird Beak Mushrooms on everything. My bed looks like the Misty Forest after a rainstorm.”

Lily’s cheeks went red. She glanced away. “I don’t know how it happened exactly. At first the worms wouldn’t take the mushroom form at all—I thought there was something wrong with the parent. When I switched to a different parent and resumed the experiment, I didn’t anticipate that the whole room would…” She trailed off.

Roland pieced together the rest from what he knew of biology: unlike a seed, a single fungal spore can’t become a mushroom alone. Two spores must combine. So when Lily discarded the parent within the room, it had drifted through the space on the air, assimilating bacteria into bird beak mushroom spores as it traveled—two spores meeting here and there, germinating wherever they landed.

He pictured the bedroom. He started laughing.

“We shall have a mushroom feast for lunch tomorrow,” he announced.

After Lily’s second transformation, her ability was no longer limited to sterilization and disinfection. Any observable organism could be replicated and spread like a natural microbe, multiplying outward in its transformed form. A complete microscopic army, grown from nothing, for next to nothing. Whether for food production or for war, she could play a role now that no one else in the Witch Union could fill.

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