Bileam

"We drift-"

"-diverge." Beakers clatter, new claws clumsy, twitchy. Impulses started in sync, degraded.

"Shift temporary-"

"-not permanent." The Scorpio, studied, delved, watches me- us? How much longer will I be We?

"Where will I go when it ends?" We mutter simultaneously. First identical words in the past hour. We are one, we are sisters, we do not know which came first. It does not matter, one will be gone soon, when We return to I.

Still, it's thrilling, the Children of the Wyrmwound, the Aberrations, our minds move so quickly, there's less cohesion than we had as a Guardian, and keener eyes make for plentiful distractions.

"A second dose?" I propose, flashing new teeth at the Scorpio.

"Not enough," I conclude, dismissing it with a flick of a new eye. The concoction that changed us took months to brew just enough for this one night, the Scorpio's venom is only an activator. This was meant to be simple proof of concept, something for integration through bacterium. It is not going inert, it's running out.

We must survive.

A rustle, from the entrance to our lair. Heavy leather against scales, click of metal on glass. Artemis, Headmistress.

"Teeth itch," I hiss.

"Claws empty," I agree.

"No time." Wings getting thicker, heavier on our back.

"No time." Two heads shake. Our claws gather notes, five eyes scour, we must both survive.

"Cerdae Sparkle? Extends effects."

"Source resists transformations, could revert." Movement stops behind us, try to ignore. "Multimist Fog? Formless, could preserve."

"Not enough," I insist, turning away from me to hiss an order to the Deadland Disciple. Artemis lets out a rumbling chuckle; I keep my focus, scanning my notes.

"She sees," I mutter. I glance up, I am trying to covertly watch her, I am not very good at it. New face, new eyes, bigger eyes, less subtle.

"Of course," I nudge me, drawing my attention back. "Irrelevant, work."

"Working," I snap back, spreading another sheet.

"You know," she begins, our tails lash, uncoiling for a moment. "This is the longest real conversation I've seen you have." We sit taller, "and it still sounds like you're taking notes." We hiss, turning to her. She watches us, striking features turned up into a carefree smirk.

"She teases," I growl, turning to myself, watching three eyes narrow.

"Always does," my fur ruffles, "winds us up."

"Makes teeth itch."

"Makes us bite." I am drooling, unprofessional. I turn back to Artemis, gnashing my teeth at her.

"Want to."

"No time." I insist and I turn to myself, irritated.

"True," I mutter, and we turn back to our notes.

"Time?" She presses, stepping forward to look over our work.

"Transformation temporary," I turn to speak, leaving myself to keep reading. "Thought we would be one mind, divergence occurred. Unintentional. One will die, unless transformation is permanent." Artemis' wings ruffle at her sides, my teeth itch again.

"Okay," she nods, unclasping the book from her belt, "let's see what we can do."

"Claws empty," I growl, not looking up from our work.

"Filled later," I hiss back, and we get to work.