Free Stone Dragon (The First Realm) by Klay Testamark

at the elbows—it looked like I was wearing gloves of my own skin. Glistening underneath were hard white scales.
    “What’s happening to me?!”
    I shuddered, my muscles tensing and twitching. I bulged out of my clothes, the muscles swelling like boils. They flexed, breaking bones and tearing tendons. My bones knit together and then snapped apart. Knit together and snapped apart. Did I mention the pain? No?
    “Aaeeeaarghaarhraa help meee!”
    I writhed on the floor, stretched on the rack of my own body. The guests had fallen back in horror. People were screaming, men and women were pushing for the exits. Meerwen stood her ground, but her hands had turned into fists.
    “Oh, gods!” I said through a mouthful of fangs. My jaws jutted forward and I was growing a snout. It poked through my stretched lips—my fucking nostrils were poking through my lips. My scalp was pulled down my neck and down my back. My tail lashed the air. My pants exploded, and then my shoes. I took a moment to mourn my shoes—I’d bought them just for the party. It rained bloody toenails before the talons forced their way out.
    Everything went black. I shook my head, and then everything looked different. Everyone glowed in their own personal mana pool, but the ambient magic still streamed into me. Me! My body sucked up all the loose energy—enchantments failed across the city. Lights flickered, as transmutation spells stopped turning lard into illuminating gas. Scrying pools collapsed, cutting off communications and splattering their users. At the buffet table, all the desserts began to slump.
    My last thought when I blacked out was, At least I don’t have to be king anymore .
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 9
    I opened my eyes and heard the screaming. People were streaming out the doors and diving from the balconies and into the gardens. Odd, that.
    The second thing I noticed was that everyone was smaller. Here I was, on all fours, and still I towered over them. The ceiling was a closer too, and I made a note to avoid the chandeliers. Whose idea was it to hang them so low? Fucking dwarves.
    The third thing I noticed was how angry I was. “Shonofabitch,” I rumbled. I twisted my neck back and forth (this was easier) and took in the scene. The two elder Elanesses seemed rooted to the ground. Valandil gazed up at me, mouth slack.
    “What are you looking at?” I said.
    “You seem to have turned into a dragon.”
    “ What? That’s ridiculous. You’ve been hitting the maple-sherry gelato, haven’t you?”
    “That’s not the point. The point is that you’re a dragon now.”
    I stood up straight. It wasn’t as easy as I remembered, and I had to grab onto a nearby a railing. I looked at it—my claws hooked around a second-floor balcony.
    “See what I mean?” Valandil said.
    “Whatever. I’ve always been tall. And how am I talking? Dragons never had lips or vocal cords.”
    “Notice how your lips aren’t moving? That’s because you don’t have any.”
    I gnashed my teeth, a sound that filled the hall. I noticed I was using magic to talk—a variant of the voice-amplification spell. “Still doesn’t prove a thing.”
    “What about your wings?”
    “I’ve always had them. Since I was a hatchling, in fact.”
    “Somebody’s in denial,” Findecano said. His wife clung to him.
    “Hey, hey, nobody’s in denial. So I look a little different in some areas. Big deal. I’ve been under a lot of stress. So my skin’s a little weird and everybody looks like food. Haven’t you had one of those weeks?”
    “Angrod, you’re a dragon,” Meerwen said.
    “Not you too!”
    I got down on all fours—I always think better that way. I looked around. “Where’d everybody go? The night is still young.” I blinked, then shook my head. “Look, if I were a dragon I would be able to breathe fire, right? And I’m damn sure I can’t. Never could. Not even after that time I ran away with the circus.”
    Findecano and Tari slowly edged off the