By Nicolin Odel

Lila had a grit problem. Her head pounded, and her mouth was of sticky cotton. What is that stench? Licking her cracked lips, she groaned in agony as she opened her eyes to find herself looking down into the bowl of a privy. Vomit burst from her mouth, a sickly yellow muck, followed by a fit of dry heaves with her stomach now emptied. 

Finally, she found her feet, leaning one hand on the wall of the tiny chamber, and pushed the door open. Light poured in through a rainbow of silk curtains, blossoming behind her eyes. “Hettra’s saggy tits,” Lila groaned as she picked her way through the bed chamber, which was made up of a tangle of delicate cushions, cashmere sheets, and entirely naked people. 

She stepped over a half dozen of those people to the opposite side, where a dresser, a wardrobe, and a full-length mirror sat neatly against the wall. She caught sight of herself and flinched. The body of a man looked back at her. “Skrull’s hell, I wish I could maintain my illusions while unconscious.” She dressed in a low-cut garment in the Xamidian fashion of vibrant green, yellow and pink. She waved her hands around, imagining the perfect woman in her head. That beautiful woman began to take shape and smile back at her. 

Her lips were the first to change, softening from the roughness of a man’s features into a supple, velvety curve. They swelled slightly, adopting a rosy hue that seemed to have been kissed by the sun. Her eyes followed, shifting into almond-like elegance framed with thick lashes. They sparkled with a vibrant emerald green that echoed the colors of her attire. Next, her cheekbones rose higher, giving her face a delicate structure that spoke of grace. Her skin smoothed to a flawless texture, with a faint flush of color adding life to her visage. Her nose shrank and refined into a gentle, feminine slope, perfectly balancing her other features.

Her hair lightened to a golden blonde and flowed like a waterfall of silken sunlight, cascading over her shoulders and down her back in soft waves. Glancing into the mirror, her transformation nearly complete, she saw not just an image of beauty but the embodiment of her truest self.

 “Ah,” Lila sighed contentedly. “Much better.” Her stomach growled furiously, and an itch at the back of her throat caused her to salivate.

She fumbled with the drawers of her dresser and rattled through jars of makeup she never used and… “Oh, thank the Primus, there’s some left.” She pulled out a vial. She pulled the top free and began to pour–nothing came out. “Fucks! Fucks, fucks, fucks.” She pulled more drawers out and frantically searched through them. “NO!” she cried, pulling out a box and throwing it to the ground. It smashed into pieces, and jars of makeup, brushes, and more clattered across the floor.

People stirred in their slumber. A man sat up, blinking blearily at her.

“Get out!” Lila shouted; she let her irritation seep out.

The man clamored up, and others, groaning and moaning but, sensing her irritability, clutched at loose clothing as they slowly filed out.

Lila slammed the door behind them. Finally alone. She contemplated her next move. “I need more grit. Looks like I will need to go there.” She exited her living quarters and emerged onto the residence terrace, looking into the central courtyard gardens, pool, and outdoor dining area. The complex, named Nandana Nivas, was a permanent residence with servants, room cleaning, and a kitchen that served breakfast, morning tea, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, and evening tea. She skirted the balcony of the Nandana Nivas, passing a dozen doors of other occupancies, and hurried down the steps past the first floor to ground level. 

Her stomach was still queasy; she bypassed the pool, where a few people lounged along the edge in the sun or swam unhurriedly. It was nearly noon, and the servants were in the midst of cleaning up the breakfast buffet. Lila grabbed an idli and a bowl of sambar. She quickly devoured them, dipping the fluffy steamed rice and lentil cake into the savory-flavored broth and vegetable mix and gulping it down. 

Her innards settled, and she contemplated a warm cup of chai, but her head was still pounding, and the itch in her nose and throat was ever-present… and growing. She crossed the courtyard again and waited as the silver-scaled guards pulled open the heavy iron gate of the complex. She stepped into the Manor District. The massive spires of the mighty palace, the Dhan Ka Mahal, towered over the district. 

An odd squawk echoed above her, and she saw nothing when she shadowed her eyes to look.

Lila turned away from the opulent palace toward the lesser Market District. Separated from the Manor District with a long, snaking sandstone wall. This is where she would find her fixer. The main market thoroughfare was bustling with colors and people hurrying about their business. Lila ignored this section, moving through it, seeking a darker side of the Market District. Even so, a horde of ragged orphan beggars suddenly surrounded her, asking for alms. 

“Go away, shoo!” Lila scanned the crowd and found a richly dressed man arguing with a merchant at his stall. She sent a wave of emotion, eliciting curiosity in children, directed at the man. The children squealed, and like a school of fish, they converged on him. Lila smiled as the man shouted, grimy fingers pawing at him, and she knew his purse would be missing after the debacle. 

Something squawked above her head, and she saw a crow tilting its head toward her. 

Hmm, I didn’t know crows lived in Xamid. Lila waved at it. “You too, off with you. Go back to Aurulan.” This time, she sent a trickle of fear at the bird. The emotion curled invisibly through the air, gently licked at the crow’s senses… and hit a solid wall.

The crow squawked again and flew off. That was odd. Perhaps crows are so dumb they don’t have emotions? She shivered involuntarily before shrugging it off as the craving for grit overtook all else. The back of her throat was salivating, and a faint nausea threatened to return if she did get more soon.

She stepped through an alley and made sure no one was looking before altering her appearance into that of a viciously buff Xamidian man, dark scars covering his brown skin and two massive scimitars across his back. It always felt profoundly uncomfortable when she took the shape of a man, but she did what she must to survive… and sometimes it could even be fun. I can intimate people with just this visage, not to mention it’s much easier to go unnoticed as a man than as the radiant beauty that I am. 

She stopped and listened, but only the distant sound of the busy market caught her ear—no, she swore she heard a croak and the rustle of feathers above, but try as she might, she caught no sight of the bird through the shit-stained walls and clothlines and canvas that crisscrossed the heights of the alley.

A lightheadedness and a gag came to her throat, and she nearly lost her breakfast. Right. Let’s get some grit. She nodded to herself; she picked her way through the alley and stepped into a back lane, skirting the second sandstone wall of Al’Jalif. This wall truly segregated the rich from the poor. The slums of Al’Jalif made up everything outside the wall. It was at the entrance of this wall that she came to the Slavers Gate.

Packed cages were lined up in two crescent shapes along the wide street directly before the gates; in the center was a raised circular platform where sellers displayed their wares. Men and women of numerous ethnicities, including Tal’tulu, Xamidian, and Auru. Even the odd Vouri. With thick wooden stocks about their wrists or chains from a manacle around their neck. People shouted their bids up at an extravagantly dressed man with a brilliant blood-red turban adorned with gold who rattled off the going numbers.

Suddenly, one of the slaves on the platform shouted, leaped from the dias, and stumbled through the crowd. People parted around him, and Lila saw a handful of people hold their ground as the others dispersed. She stood on the edge as masked people in grey robes surrounded the man, and as one, long barbed whip emerged from those grey robes.

“The Shakti Sangh,” someone hissed under their breath nearby.

“Please!” The man ran up to Lila and fell to his knees before her, his hand phasing into her illusionary muscular legs. He looked up at her and pleaded, “Help me!”

She pushed him away before he realized the oddity and a whip snapped. 

The man screamed.

A second and third whip lashed. The man cried out as the whips tore into crimson flesh. He writhed, and blood splashed on the dusty street as he fell to his back. 

Then, the masked people hauled the slave to his feet and put a hand over his mouth as another forced black powder into his nostrils. He thrashed, eyes bulging, face redding as he tried to hold his breath. Finally, his nose flared, and he sucked in the powder. His eyes rolled back, then went bleary, and he slumped in the grey’s grip. With nearly no resistance, the grey-clad slavers guided the man back to the platform, and he retook his place alongside the others. His head was downcast, and blood oozing from his wounds, he seemed to notice no longer.

“A feisty one!” the red-turbaned man shouted. “Can I get one hundred Xams?”

“One-twenty!” someone shouted.

The concourse faded in Lila’s mind as her attention was on one of the grey-robed individuals as he pocketed the vial, exited the crowd, and was making their way through an opening between two cages on the far side of the street. She followed confidently in her manly form, acting like she was right at home. She put on her best act and sneered at the slaves who reached out from their cages toward her and spat in the dust before them. She did feel for the poor bastards, but it didn’t matter right now.

Two grey figures stood awaiting her as she exited the narrow path between cages.

“It’s me, Lila Mentirosa. I need a vial.” 

A masked head nodded slowly and turned away. Lila followed closely behind, passing through a half-wall topped with rod iron into a small courtyard connected to a rough, reddish sandstone building. She heard a flutter and a crow perched on the spurs of the fence and watched her as she went. Something’s not right here. That same chill crept through her, but it was interrupted by a voice.

“Show us your true self, Lila.” A half dozen masked people stood as sentries around the courtyard. The man speaking was clad in the same grey robes, but his mask was gold, while the others were clad in the same grey as their robes. Rajendra Daman was the leader of the Shakti Sangh. “We can’t be too careful.”

Lila paused. Instead of letting her emotions influence those around her, she pulled their emotions from their minds. Their feelings washed through her: anxiousness, anticipation, and greed before fading away.  

The crow squawked.

Lila jumped at the sudden, unexpected sound, and her illusion flickered before composing herself. “You know Rajendra… I’d rather stay as I am for now.” 

Lila saw one of the grey’s hands move under his robe behind Rajendra. To his whip?

“Come now, Lila, how long have we known each other? It’s been a few years now. You come nearly every week. Sit. We’ll have a nice cup of chai.”

“Ha,” Lila snorted. “Now I truly know something is wrong. You never offer tea.”

Rajendra raised his hand in command; adorning his fist were heavy brass knuckles, and the surrounding greys went for their whips.

Lila’s heart raced, but she remained calm. She conjured an illusion of two striped jungle cats leaping over the wall. Simultaneously, she sent a wave of fear and confusion in a pulse around her. It hit the greys as their eyes fell on the illusionary beasts. They panicked.

She made a cat leap at one guard, and someone else’s whip lashed out at the beast. It struck the image and went through it, cracking into the grey face. It shattered his mask, and blood sprayed as the man fell.

Lila sent both cats racing around, still pulsing the disorienting emotions from her. 

Another grey pulled back his arm to lash out, only to strike his companion behind him. Yet another took a lash to the leg, and blood seeped through the darkening robes. 

One by one, the greys fled or fell.

All except Rajendra.

“You fools!” Rajendra shouted. “It’s not real!” He stepped forward and raised his knuckled hands. “You give me no choice, Lila; someone is giving me more money than a year’s worth of slave and grit trading to bring you in.”

“Who in Skrull’s hairy balls would want little old me?” Lila mocked. “They could at least ask politely.”

Rajendra rushed at her. 

Lila conjured a thick cloud of black smoke at her feet that expanded exponentially about her, erasing the cats as she did so. She didn’t need to see around her; she could feel Rajendra’s anger like a radiant aura pouring from him, silhouetting his body in her mind. She casually replaced the illusionary disguise of the buffed Xamidian mercenary with her proper feminine form. Her real form. She moved into a grappling stance, and as Rajendra barreled past her in the fog, she seized his arm, twisting it behind his back. She locked her legs around his waist and brought him to the ground with a thud, her movements fluid and graceful.

Rajendra struggled, but this wasn’t the first would-be attacker Lila had subdued. She tightened her grip, securing him in a chokehold. “Who’s paying you, Rajendra?” she hissed.

Rajendra’s breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to swing and hit her with the metal on his hands, nearly catching her in the head. 

“Fucks, never mind,” Lila cursed. “Now sleep.” She tightened the chokehold just enough to render Rajendra unconscious, then released him and stood, breathing heavily but invigorated by the contest.

She let the smoke dissipate, and Lila stretched and cracked her neck, eyeing the courtyard.

No others came to contend.

She patted through Rajendra’s robes and, to her great delight, found a dozen vials of grit. “Praise be to Hettra and her heavenly tits!” Lila snorted a tiny pinch of the powder on her fingernail. That sensation crackled through her like lightning. 

A slow, muted clap sounded behind her, and she turned to see a man in black step out from the red-stone building, his gloved hands smacking together in mock amusement. A crow fluttered down and perched on his shoulder.

“That was an excellent showing, my dear,” the man said. He stroked his black-trimmed goatee thoughtfully. “Have you ever considered putting those powers to better use?”

“First of all… my dear? Second of all, who’s the fucks are you?” 

“Ebras Corb, but you will address me as Alpha.”

“The fucks, I will. I’m going home.”

“You truly believe the Shakti Sangh will leave you alone after this?”

Rajendra groaned at her feet and began to stir.

I don’t have time for this. Lila focused on the man in black, and then it dawned on her. She felt no emotion from him. Nothing. She faltered, then cursed. He’d already seen this trick. Still, she did it anyway. Instead of smoke this time, she conjured a blast of sand whirling about the courtyard. Lila turned to flee and crashed her head into a solid wall of nothing. She stumbled back and tripped over Rajendra. The dusty sand illusion vanished into thin air.

The man crouched over her, an ungloved hand reaching for her head. His fingers touched, and she felt a sickly penetration enter her mind. Without thinking, she conjured all her emotions into a ball, a second mind, a palace, and taunted his probing. For she knew it was him, now she felt his very thoughts. His unquenchable need to be feared and to… dominate. She couldn’t hide everything from his piercing gaze, and she knew he had gleaned her dead self, her male genitals, and her mind being trapped in this body. He brushed through scenes from her life as if pursuing a market. Still, as she heard his voice, she guided him to that ball of emotion away from everything else.

“Interesting. Something is different here. You are… a woman.”

“I’ll come with you.”

He paused, hand still on her head, but she felt the probing move the balls of compressed emotion around within her head as if he were trying to change something. “What’s this? Perhaps your mind is weaker than I thought. You obey so readily.” He released his hold on her, and she felt the sickening jabbing slide out. 

What had he been trying to do? 

“My telepathy did nothing to you, did it?”

Fucks, he knows. 

He smiled. “You are the first… ever to resist it, and you would still obey me?”

“You called me a woman,” Lila said with fake fragility. I’ll play along. “That’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted.” 

“I don’t care what you are as long as you will be useful to me.”

Lila stood looking level into the man’s eyes. “I don’t kill innocents or do anything else… unsavory.” 

“As a council member, you would be free to pursue your own desires until the need arises… and you will unquestionably obey me.”

“My desires?” Lila cocked a brow. “You’ve got any grit where we’re going?”

Want to read more from this universe? Check out The Sunstone Saga!

Click here to read more Refractions by Nicolin Odel!

If you enjoyed the story and you want to support Nicolin, give him a tip on Ko-fi!