Weaver

Transformation

Alice  leaned back against the desk, eyes fixed on Shakra. The white tiger stood up,

            “Before I tell you, there’s something I need to do.”

            Alice blinked, for a moment it seemed like her vision had gone blurry. Shakra’s white coat began to ripple, and she could see shots of light run over the length of her body, red and blue, like electricity pulsing over the fur. The tiger’s body twisted and stretched unnaturally, and Alice’s stomach lurched. The way Shakra was moving made it look like bones were being broken and reforming. Her fur disappeared, replaced by smooth skin. Paws stretched into fingers, claws melted away and she shrank rapidly, muscular limbs turning into slim arms and legs.  Eventually the tiger was completely gone, and in her place lay a woman.

            Alice stared in astonishment. The woman was slim, brown skinned, and dressed in a thin white robe. The dark brows and complexion, along with the long black lashes that lay against her cheeks, spoke of Indian descent.  Her hair, long and black, was spread in a halo around her head. She was beautiful.  The woman groaned, and her eyes fluttered open,

            “I forgot how bad the change was.” Hearing her voice out loud was surreal. It was light and musical, with only the faintest hint of an accent.

            “Shakra?”  Azura bent down and offered the woman her hand.

            “Thank you,” The woman put a slender brown hand into Azura’s and allowed herself to be helped up. “I’m still Shakra. This is my true form. It’s been so long…” She moved to sit in the chair behind the desk, stumbling a little. Azura gripped her arm, eyes wide.

            Shakra laughed, “I’m too used to four legs. I will have to get used to walking upright again.” She sat down in the leather chair and rolled her shoulders back with a sigh, “feels so strange.”

            Gabriel shut his mouth with a click, “So, why now? Why did you choose to turn human now?”

            Shakra fiddled with a dark strand of hair, worry creasing her brows, “Because my wayward apprentice has finally found me. It’s time to stop running. I didn’t want to confront him, or his new mistress, but they’ve obviously tracked me to you. Somehow they’ve guessed I’m with you.”

            “That man…Ekil- whatever,” Alice said, “that was him? Your apprentice?”

            Shakra nodded, and the corner of her mouth turned up in a wry smile, “foolish boy was searching for spiders still.”

            “I don’t understand,” Alice frowned, “what does he want with you? And what’s up with the spider thing?”

            “I’ll have to tell you the entire story.” Shakra sat back in the chair with a smile, “Azura, dear. Put on some tea, will you? This may take some time.”

            Azura moved to do as she’d asked, and behind them Alice heard the clinking of tea cups as she pulled them out of the cupboard. Shakra cleared her throat,

            “I was…I am, a Sorceress, and Ekile was my apprentice.” Shakra looked down at her hands, “I was prideful and vain, I boasted about my skill at weaving patterns in the threads. I told everyone that I was the greatest weaver of all time. That I could best anyone.” She shook her head, “foolishness, utter idiocy. One day, Ekile brought a woman to me. He said the woman claimed she could best me, that she was the better weaver. I, in my foolish pride, simply laughed. The woman challenged me. She said we should have a contest, to see who is more skilled at weaving the threads. Whoever created the most powerful spell, would be declared the greatest weaver. I agreed.” Shakra steepled her fingers, her face grim, “We were halfway through the contest, weaving like mad, and she stopped. I believe she saw that my spell was becoming too powerful. She cast off her cloak and revealed herself to me,” Shakra shut her eyes, as if the memory pained her, “She was Athena. I had been battling with the goddess of wisdom and warfare. For all her wisdom, I will not hesitate to say she was like a petulant child. She cast her spell on me in a fit of rage, and I changed.” Her voice cracked, and it was obvious that Shakra was controlling her anger as she remembered what had happened to her, “not into the form you saw me in. No, she condemned me to crawl the earth on eight legs for the rest of my life.”