## Chapter 1: A Simple Task

The instructions had been crystal clear: "Keep the talisman on its forehead at all times, or the beast will revert to its true form and devour everything within a three-mile radius."

Simple enough, Marina thought as she accepted the small bronze disc from the trembling village elder. How hard could it be to keep one little talisman stuck to one little forehead?

Except the "little" forehead in question belonged to Gromfang, a twelve-foot-tall nightmare of teeth, claws, and perpetually damp scales that smelled like a fish market in July. The talisman—barely larger than a coin—was supposed to transform him into something manageable. Something friendly. Something that wouldn't eat the entire village of Millbrook in a single afternoon snack.

"The adhesive spell should last indefinitely," the elder had assured her, pressing the warm metal into her palm. "Just place it firmly against the creature's forehead, speak the binding words, and you'll have yourself a perfectly docile companion for your journey through the Thornwood."

That had been six hours ago.

Marina stood in the middle of the forest clearing, hands on her hips, glaring up at the monster who was currently trying to scratch his forehead against a tree trunk. The talisman gleamed mockingly from where it had fallen—again—into a puddle of questionable origin.

"Gromfang, no! Bad! We talked about this!" She lunged forward and snatched the talisman from the muck, wiping it on her already-ruined travel cloak. This was the seventh time this morning. Seventh.

The beast paused his scratching and looked down at her with eyes like molten copper. His forehead was bright red and irritated, a perfect circle where the talisman had been adhered over and over again. He made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a growl.

"I know it itches," Marina said, trying to keep her voice level and soothing like the elder had instructed. "But if we don't keep this on, you're going to turn back into your 'true form,' and apparently that's bad for both of us. Something about 'insatiable hunger' and 'rivers of blood.' Ring any bells?"

Gromfang tilted his massive head. Without the talisman's magic actively working, he was already looking less friendly. His teeth seemed longer. His claws flexed involuntarily. A thin line of drool escaped his jaws and sizzled when it hit the ground.

"Right, okay, let's try this again." Marina approached slowly, holding the talisman up like a peace offering. "Just stay still. Nice and still. I'll make it quick."

She had to climb onto a conveniently placed boulder to reach his forehead. Gromfang, to his credit, did try to stay still. He really did. But the moment the talisman made contact with his irritated skin, his whole body shuddered.

Marina pressed it firmly against his forehead and spoke the binding words: "Vis domita, forma serena, bestia quieta."

The talisman glowed soft blue. Gromfang's features softened immediately. His teeth retracted to a more reasonable size. His scales took on a pleasant pearlescent sheen instead of their usual mucus-slick appearance. His eyes went from "I'm considering whether you'd taste better grilled or raw" to "I'm a big puppy who loves belly rubs."

"There," Marina said, climbing down from the boulder. "That wasn't so—"

*Thunk.*

The talisman hit the forest floor.

"You have GOT to be kidding me!" Marina threw her hands up. "What is it? What's making it fall off?"

Gromfang looked sheepish—as sheepish as a creature of nightmare could look. He pointed one massive claw at his forehead and made a sort of questioning rumble.

Marina peered closer at his forehead. The skin was now not just red but beginning to show signs of a rash. Little bumps were forming around the edges of where the talisman had been.

"Oh, perfect. You're having an allergic reaction." She picked up the talisman again, noting how it seemed to be vibrating slightly, as if the magic itself was being rejected. "The elder mentioned nothing about allergies. Nothing about sensitive skin. Just 'slap it on and you're good to go.'"

She tried to reapply it. The talisman stuck for approximately fifteen seconds before popping off like a cork from a bottle.

"Okay," Marina said, trying to think. "Okay, we can work with this. Maybe if I tie it on? I have some rope in my pack."

Twenty minutes later, Gromfang looked like he was wearing a very uncomfortable headband. The rope crisscrossed over his head, holding the talisman in place through sheer physical restraint. He made small sounds of distress.

"I know it's not ideal," Marina said, shouldering her pack and starting down the forest path. "But it's either this or I leave you here, and honestly, the elder was pretty clear that you'd probably eat me if I tried to abandon you. So, partnership! Forced magical partnership. Let's go."

They made it approximately half a mile before Gromfang stopped dead in his tracks. His whole body had gone rigid.

"What? What's wrong now?"

He raised one claw and pointed ahead. Standing in the middle of the path was a deer—just an ordinary forest deer, watching them with dark, liquid eyes.

"It's fine," Marina said. "It's just a deer. Totally harmless. The talisman is working, see? You're calm. You're docile. You're—"

Gromfang's pupils dilated. Every muscle in his body tensed. The rope holding the talisman began to strain.

"No," Marina said. "No, no, no, we are not doing this. It's a DEER. You don't need to—"

*SNAP.*

The rope broke. The talisman went flying. And Gromfang lunged.

The deer, wisely, bolted. Gromfang crashed through the underbrush after it, making sounds that Marina suspected would haunt her nightmares for years to come. She could hear trees splintering in the distance.

"GROMFANG! GET BACK HERE!"

She found him ten minutes later in a ravine, looking very pleased with himself and very covered in mud. The deer was long gone. The talisman was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is it?" Marina demanded, scrambling down the muddy slope. "Where did it go?"

Gromfang burped. A small blue glow emanated from his stomach.

"You swallowed it." Marina stared at him in disbelief. "You swallowed the one thing keeping you from becoming a mindless killing machine. That's... that's just perfect."

She sat down hard on a rock, suddenly exhausted. The Thornwood stretched out before them, dark and deep. They were only a quarter of the way through. She needed to reach the Sanctum of Whispers on the other side to deliver her message. She needed Gromfang to stay transformed, or she'd never make it.

And now the talisman was dissolving in his stomach acid.

Gromfang, seeming to sense her distress, lay down and put his enormous head in her lap. He made a sound that might have been an apology. Without the talisman's active magic, his features were already shifting back—teeth elongating, eyes taking on that predatory gleam.

But he hadn't eaten her yet.

"You really are trying, aren't you?" Marina said quietly, scratching behind where his ears would be if he had visible ears. "This isn't your fault. That stupid elder didn't prepare me for any of this."

Gromfang's stomach made an ominous gurgling sound. Then he coughed. Once. Twice.

The talisman came flying out of his mouth, covered in glowing saliva but otherwise intact.

"Oh, thank the gods." Marina grabbed it, trying not to think too hard about where it had just been. "Okay. Okay, we can work with this. But I need to figure out why it won't stay on your head."

She studied his forehead in the fading afternoon light. The rash had gotten worse. The skin was now actively inflamed, and she could see what looked like magical burn marks around the edges.

"The magic is too strong for direct contact," she murmured. "You're not rejecting the transformation. You're rejecting the delivery method."

An idea began to form.

"What if we don't put it directly on your skin?" She rummaged through her pack, pulling out various supplies. "What if we create a barrier? Something between you and the talisman that still allows the magic through but protects your skin?"

She had bandages. Some medicinal salve. A spare shirt. And—she pulled out a small jar of her grandmother's healing ointment, the one that worked on everything from burns to curse marks.

"This might be wildly experimental," Marina said, "but I'm all out of conventional options."

She spent the next hour creating a makeshift bandage, soaked in the healing ointment and wrapped around the talisman itself. Then she approached Gromfang, who had been watching her work with curious eyes that kept flickering between intelligent and predatory.

"Last try for today," she said. "If this doesn't work, we're camping here and figuring something else out in the morning."

She pressed the wrapped talisman against his forehead and spoke the binding words.

The transformation was immediate—but gentler this time. Gromfang's features softened without the previous violent shift. The talisman glowed through the bandage, a soft blue light that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat.

They waited.

Five seconds. Ten. Thirty. A minute.

The talisman stayed put.

"Yes!" Marina jumped up and down. "Yes! We did it! High five!"

Gromfang cautiously raised one massive paw. They high-fived, and Marina's entire arm went numb from the impact.

"Okay," she said, shaking feeling back into her hand. "Okay, we're good. We can do this. We just have to make it through the Thornwood, deliver the message to the Sanctum, and get you back to the village. And as long as that talisman stays on your forehead, we should be absolutely—"

A drop of rain hit her nose.

Then another.

Then the sky opened up, and the storm began.