The sound of thunder was all that could be heard, along with the faint tapping of rain against the hospital windows.
Looking closely toward the ground, the cobblestone roads, and the wooden staircases that lead to house doors, a faint layer of mist began to form.
Bang!
Crackle!
Lightning roared.
Despite the violent nature of the storm, the soft, tranquil tapping of raindrops brought forth a rather calming feeling. To all the patients of the hospital. Perhaps they could sleep quietly.
One patient turned and tossed, restless.
Not because of the calm yet violent storm.
"Haa..."
Isalda van Mahaut's forehead beaded with sweat, her pale face twisting and contorting. Discomfort. Lightheadedness. Nausea.
The bandage that had wrapped around her forehead had become so soaked, so frail, that it fell down and unloosened by itself, revealing that the injury that had once appeared gruesome, was completely gone. Healed.
Not even a scar had been left. Without any proper healer to attend to her, not even a scar had been left.
Isalda stumbled out of her bed, her steps uneasy, random. As if she had forgotten how to walk. She walked toward the wet window, stretching her right arm out as a way to hold herself up, but at the same time to feel something.
The window was cold. Her fingertips were sweaty, yet her hand did not slide down from the window.
"My... head... shit. It feels like I'm being ripped open, from the inside."
With her left arm, she held her head in her hand.
Badump!
At each beat of her heart, the feeling could be comparable to a little creature knocking at her ribcage. Her heart felt as if it was not her own. The pain started to increase.
With her right arm, she clutched at her chest. With nothing left to hold her up, she fell to the ground.
"Ack!"
She crashed down, her shoulder hitting the wooden floors. She lay flat on her back, taking deep breaths. Trying to assess the situation she was in.
"This... it hurts all over my body! What... what the hell is happening to me!?"
She yelled, quietly.
A lot of different, strange feelings had been going on, through her nausea.
Like, the feeling of her skin wriggling, moving in its place.
Her vision, faded for a moment, before promptly coming back.
Her nails seemed to be growing as well, an uncomfortable, painful feeling.
But through sheer willpower, she managed to almost push back these new feelings. Until all she felt was the pain in her heart and her head.
Mustering strength, she bursted through the door, running toward the bathroom, to find a window. Anything.
There in the mirror, she saw herself.
Her face was covered in sweat, along with her light blue hospital gown.
On the right side of her head, where the injury was inflicted, where the blade was cut deepest into her head, a grey, scaly horn was taking shape. The skin beneath the horn was grey in color, as well.
Her eyes remained their color, although appearing reptilian in nature. She pulled down at her eyelid, observing closely.
A worried, somewhat fearful expression could be seen on her face.
"What... what am I? I heard the nurse talking about how I was hit by... some kind of dragon blood. Have I been turned into a dragon?" she concluded.
Coming to that conclusion, her breathing became erratic.
"Won't they hunt me down? I'll be ostracized. Isolated. I can't let anybody find out. But won't it be obvious like this, with a horn protruding out of my fucking head!" she yelled, banging on the mirror.
It shattered.
Crack!
The pieces of glass tore the skin on her knuckles, blood dripping into the sink. But she did not react to that, because there was another unbearable pain that she felt.
It was unusual.
Pain. Pure, unbridled pain. The type of pain was born from the feeling of her skin ripping, her bones reforming and shifting in her flesh, her spinal cord extending to accommodate the new limbs that were growing at her back.
She fell forward, clutching the sink with the tiny drops of strength that remained in her body.
The fabric of her gown tore, along with her skin. Bone and flesh protruded from her back, forming the frame of a pair of bony, large wings. Wings that made her feel cramped inside of small bathroom.
The wings had to bend to accommodate the small size.
The leathery, black membrane, fell down, like a curtain. Finally, it expanded to its full size.
When this was done, the only thing that Isalda felt was the uncomfortable positioning of her new limbs.
"I-I can't stay like this..."
Her voice escaped breathy and tired. She closed her eyes tightly. Holding her breath, biting so hard on her lip that she began to taste the bitter, iron taste of blood at her tongue.
Slowly, it retracted. The pain was, of course, still evident. Evident in the stifled groans, the bearing of teeth, and how she grabbed onto the sink so tightly that the ceramic and stainless steel it was made out of shattered into dust.
"Dust..."
The wings finally retracted, along with the horn. The grey skin retracted into a small dot on the right side of her forehead. Seeing that it was all done, and her pain was starting to subside, she let out a breath of relief.
She raised her hand toward her face, to stare at the dust in her palm.
"I... did this? To crush steel into dust like this... and I wasn't even exerting that much force."
Realizing that her appearance and returned back to normal, she felt very relieved. She also began to take notice of her newfound strength.
"Overcoming all that pain... has made me stronger."