Ascension to godhood comes with many complications. So what better to do than turning an explosive pyromancer into the guardian beast of your revel?
—
The air of Naya was thick with life.
It always was.
Heat rose from the jungle floor in slow, heavy waves. Vines thicker than ship ropes hung between towering trees. Somewhere in the distance, something enormous roared—not in anger, but simply because it could.
Chandra liked Naya.
Big problems. Big creatures. Big solutions.
Which was good.
Because the thing currently charging through the clearing definitely qualified.
“Okay!” Chandra shouted over the crashing of trees. “That’s big even for this place!”
The godbeast slammed through a stand of ancient trunks, splintering them like twigs. It was all horn and muscle and glowing eyes, its hide thick as armor and its breath steaming in the humid air. Each step shook the ground hard enough to rattle loose stones.
Behind it, a group of panicked figures scattered through the undergrowth.
Nymphs.
Satyrs.
One of them tripped. Another stopped to help. None of them were going to outrun something that size.
Chandra rolled her shoulders.
“Right,” she muttered. “We’re doing this the loud way.”
She thrust both hands forward.
Fire answered instantly.
A roaring wave of flame slammed into the beast’s flank, spreading across its hide in a burst of orange and white. Heat rolled outward, scorching leaves and turning the air sharp and dry.
The creature bellowed and staggered sideways, more startled than hurt.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re tough,” Chandra called, already pulling more heat into her palms. “Good! I hate it when they go down easy.”
The godbeast lowered its head and charged.
Chandra grinned.
“Oh, that’s better.”
She leapt forward instead of back, flames spiraling around her arms as she met the charge head-on. Fire detonated against the creature’s face in a blinding flash. It skidded, claws tearing furrows through the earth, shaking its head violently as heat washed over its eyes.
Chandra didn’t let up.
Another blast. Then another. Then a sweeping arc of flame that forced the beast to turn, driving it away from the fleeing crowd and deeper into the jungle.
The clearing filled with smoke and the sharp scent of scorched bark.
The creature hesitated, shaking its massive head.
Chandra gathered one more surge of fire, letting it burn bright and hot in her hands.
“Go,” she warned.
The beast snorted, pawed once at the ground…
…and then turned and crashed back into the forest, retreating through the dense green with heavy, fading impacts.
Chandra held the fire a moment longer.
Then she let it gutter out.
“…Okay,” she said, exhaling. “That one was definitely too big to kill today.”
Behind her, the clearing was quiet.
Slowly, cautiously, the nymphs and satyrs began to emerge from hiding.
One of the satyrs raised both hands.
“You drove it away!”
Another nymph hurried forward, eyes wide with relief. “We thought it would trample the entire camp!”
Chandra waved a hand.
“Yeah, well. Try not to set up camp in the path of something the size of a mountain,” she said. Then, after a beat: “You’re welcome.”
They laughed, nervous at first, then genuine.
The tension broke quickly. Satyrs were already talking over each other, recounting how close the beast had come. A pair of nymphs began gathering scattered supplies from the edge of the clearing.
Chandra watched them for a moment.
Then she frowned.
Ajani’s words came back to her.
‘I’ve lost contact with Elspeth.’
That alone had been enough to worry him.
But what came after…
‘I can still feel her mana. Faint and distant. But definitely hers. And strangest of all, it comes from Naya of all places.’
That part had sounded wrong.
Very wrong.
Ajani had looked troubled when he said it, golden eyes narrowed in thought.
“I need to remain on Theros,” he had explained. “Something there doesn’t feel quite right. Something tied to the gods.”
He had placed a hand on her shoulder.
‘But if Elspeth truly is on Naya… I would trust no one more than you to find her.’
So here she was.
Following the faint disturbances Ajani had described.
And now this.
Chandra looked back at the group in the clearing.
Satyrs.
Nymphs.
Celebrating. Laughing. Gathering wine skins and instruments and brightly colored cloth from where they had dropped them while fleeing.
She crossed her arms.
“…Okay,” she said slowly. “Either Naya got way weirder while I wasn’t looking…”
She walked toward them.
“…or you guys aren’t from around here.”
A satyr looked up, blinking.
“We’re travelers!” he said cheerfully.
“From where?” Chandra asked.
He opened his mouth.
Hesitated.
Then grinned.
“From a great celebration!”
Another nymph nodded eagerly. “The revel spreads wherever it’s welcomed!”
Chandra’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Ajani was right.
Satyrs and nymphs weren’t native to Naya.
Someone must have brought them here.
Or something.
And if Elspeth’s mana really was somewhere on this plane…
Chandra rolled her shoulders, a small spark flickering at her fingertips.
“Alright,” she muttered.
“Let’s find out what’s going on.”
—
High above Theros, the night was alive.
Nyx did not sleep.
Constellations drifted in slow celebration, their light pulsing faintly in rhythm with distant laughter. Across the mortal world below, wine was still being poured, music still being played, and wherever the revel grew loud enough, the stars answered.
At the center of that answering light stood Xenagos, God of Revels.
He leaned back against nothing at all, one leg crossed over the other, watching the worlds beyond his own as easily as a man might watch dancers from a balcony.
And at the moment, his attention was fixed elsewhere.
Naya.
The great jungle-plane burned briefly with a flash of familiar orange fire. Even across the Blind Eternities, the flare was impossible to miss.
Xenagos grinned.
“Well,” he said lightly, “that’s one way to make an entrance.”
The pyromancer moved through the clearing like a storm, driving the godbeast back with sheer force of will and far too much enthusiasm. Around her, satyrs and nymphs scattered, then slowly gathered again as the danger passed.
His people.
Saved.
“Alright,” Xenagos admitted, lifting his cup in a small, approving gesture. “Points for that.”
The glass refilled itself as he drank.
But his smile faded slightly as his attention shifted.
Because while the scene on Naya was impressive, it wasn’t the only one he was watching.
Back on Theros, a different figure moved through a crowded district.
Massive.
Towering.
Wooden hooves cracked stone with every step.
Inside her hollow frame, laughter echoed endlessly. Wine sloshed in hidden reservoirs. Music seemed to hum through the carved grain of her body itself.
The Herald.
Elspeth Tirel had become exactly what he needed her to be.
A vessel.
A celebration that could walk between worlds.
A way to carry the revel beyond Theros.
Xenagos watched as she shifted her weight to turn down a narrow street.
A moment later, three followers scrambled out of the way, barely avoiding the sweep of her massive hindquarters. One tripped. Another fell. The stone cracked where her hoof came down, far too close.
Xenagos winced.
“…Okay. That’s a problem.”
He took another drink and watched a little longer.
Elspeth was powerful, durable and impressive. A living monument.
But she was also—
“Big,” he muttered.
Very big.
Too big to maneuver carefully in tight spaces. Too big to protect anyone who wasn’t directly inside her hollow interior.
If she stumbled…
If she turned too quickly…
If a crowd got too close…
“Well,” Xenagos said, swirling the wine thoughtfully, “we might be losing almost as many followers as we’re gaining.”
He made a mental note.
The Herald was perfect for transport and perfect for spectacle.
Not perfect for protection.
Which brought his attention back to Naya.
The pyromancer was laughing now, already talking with the satyrs she’d just saved, sparks still dancing lazily around her hands.
Xenagos’ expression sharpened.
That one was dangerous.
Not because she had saved his people—he actually appreciated that part.
No.
Because of who she was.
Hot-headed. Loyal. Emotional. The sort who charged first and asked questions later.
The sort who would absolutely come looking for someone to blame the moment she saw what had happened to her friend.
“And you’re definitely the ‘burn first, think later’ type,” Xenagos said, watching her gesture animatedly as she spoke.
If she found Elspeth like this…
If she decided Xenagos was responsible…
He took another drink.
“Yeah,” he concluded. “You’re a problem. Especially since my dear herald was ordered to transport more of my followers to Naya in a little bit. I’d rather not have the little explosive firebrand find out what her ally looks like as she is right now…”
His gaze shifted again.
Farther.
To another presence he had begun to notice circling the edges of the situation.
This one being far calmer, more focused, and dangerously persistent.
A golden mind that did not rush, did not panic, did not lose control.
Ajani Goldmane.
Xenagos’ smile thinned.
“That one,” he said quietly, “I doubt he would charge in recklessly, he barely has any information. He is a problem, but a problem later.”
Although the problem was extremely evident. Ajani was extremely wise, patient and observant.
That kind of mind didn’t get distracted by a good party.
But Ajani was still on Theros. Which meant that Xenagos could operate outside of Theros without leaving too many traces.
And for now, that was enough.
“One fire at a time,” Xenagos decided. “Just like I don’t want to take followers away from other gods to anger them, neither do I want to anger too many other planeswalkers at the same time.”
His attention returned fully to Naya.
The pyromancer.
The wild, powerful, untamed and emotional pyromancer.
She truly was the kind of force that could destroy a celebration just as easily as she could defend one.
His grin returned. Slow and amused.
“Unless,” he said, raising his glass toward the distant jungle, “you stop fighting the wild ones… and just teach them where the party is.”
Xenagos tipped his head back and laughed softly.
“Good thing,” he said, “I’ve already got just the girl for the job.”
Far away, on Naya, the satyrs began setting out wine.
And the party was just getting started.
—
The clearing didn’t stay quiet for long.
Satyrs were already hauling overturned crates back into place, laughing as if a rampaging godbeast had been nothing more than an inconvenient interruption. Nymphs gathered scattered instruments and wine skins from the edges of the jungle. Someone was rebuilding a cooking fire. Someone else was tuning a flute.
Chandra watched it all with her arms crossed.
“Okay,” she muttered. “You people recover fast.”
A satyr grinned as he passed her with an armful of cups. “Danger makes the celebration better!”
That… sounded like something Ajani would absolutely not approve of.
Still, the energy was contagious. The fear from earlier was already gone, replaced by excitement and relief. A few of them had started arranging tables between the roots of a massive tree. Wine was being poured. Food appeared from packs and baskets.
If there was information to be learned here, it probably wouldn’t come from interrogation.
It would come from staying.
Chandra accepted a drink someone handed her and took a cautious sip.
Not bad.
Fruity. Strong.
“Alright,” she said. “I can work with this.”
“May I join you?”
The voice came from her left. It was calm, warm, and entirely unhurried.
Chandra turned.
The elf standing there was unfamiliar. Tall even for her kind, with sun-browned skin and long dark hair braided with small bones and carved wooden charms. A curved staff rested easily in one hand, its top shaped like a stylized beast’s head.
There was something steady about her presence. Quiet confidence. The kind of calm you usually saw in people who spent a lot of time around dangerous creatures.
Chandra gestured toward a fallen log nearby.
“Sure.”
They sat, each with a cup in hand. For a moment, they simply watched the preparations together as the sounds of the growing celebration spread through the clearing.
“I’m Chicita,” the elf said at last. “Renowned Beast caller who recently stumbled upon this delightful party.”
Chandra raised a brow. “Chandra. Pyromancer. Occasional monster deterrent.”
Chicita smiled faintly.
“I could see that.”
She took a small drink, then continued.
“I was raised to honor Mayael. To seek the great beasts of this world. To understand their strength.”
Her fingers brushed one of the carved charms at her wrist.
“But strength alone is not enough. Not if it is wild. Not if it destroys everything around it.”
She glanced toward Chandra, her eyes thoughtful.
“Then the God of Revels showed me something different.”
Chandra took another sip.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“That freedom,” Chicita said, “is not the absence of guidance.”
Her voice was gentle, conversational.
“Freedom is knowing what you are… and choosing where to belong.”
She let the words settle, then added:
“My god gave me a purpose. To find the beasts that others call untamable… and show them where they are meant to stand. Have you ever run into any of these sorts?”
Chandra snorted into her drink.
“Untamable beasts?” she said, nearly laughing. “I’ve met so many of those I stopped counting.”
Godbeasts. Eldrazi spawn. Demons. Elementals. Angry guildmasters.
“Honestly,” she added, wiping her mouth, “half the time I’m the thing people are trying to stop.”
Chicita’s smile deepened slightly.
“I believe that.”
Chandra tilted her head, studying her.
“What about you?” she asked. “Ever run into something you couldn’t tame? Something you would call an untamable beast?”
“Yes,” Chicita said simply.
She set her cup aside.
Then she leaned a little closer.
Chandra didn’t pull back. There was nothing threatening in the movement. Nothing aggressive. Just quiet attention.
Chicita’s hand reached up.
Not toward her face.
Just behind her head.
Fingers slid gently into her hair.
Then scratched.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The sensation hit Chandra like warmth spreading under her skin.
“…Oh,” she breathed before she could stop herself.
Chicita’s fingers moved in small circles, nails just barely grazing her scalp. Then a soft pat. Then another slow scratch.
“She is strong,” Chicita said quietly. “Wild. Bright. Burning.”
Each word seemed to sink deeper than it should.
Chandra blinked.
The clearing felt softer around the edges.
The sounds of preparation blurred into a distant hum.
Her shoulders relaxed without her telling them to.
Her grip loosened on the cup.
“She fights everything,” Chicita continued, her voice calm and steady. “Even when she doesn’t need to.”
Another slow scratch.
Another gentle pat.
Chandra’s thoughts began to drift.
She should probably say something.
Ask a question.
Move.
Instead, she leaned slightly into the touch.
Warm.
Safe.
Easy.
Her vision blurred at the edges.
“And all that strength,” Chicita said softly, “carried alone.”
The scratching shifted higher.
Behind her ears.
Chandra felt something move.
A strange pulling sensation along the sides of her head. Not painful. Not even uncomfortable. Just… shifting. Sliding upward.
Her breathing slowed.
The world narrowed.
The movement continued, ears lifting, lengthening, soft fur spreading as they rose to the top of her head, growing long and thick and warm against Chicita’s fingers.
Chandra didn’t question it.
Didn’t even think to.
The sensation was too good.
Too calm.
Too right.
“She doesn’t have to fight everything,” Chicita murmured.
Pat.
Scratch.
Pat.
“She just needs someone who understands her.”
The last of Chandra’s thoughts slipped away.
The clearing.
The satyrs.
Ajani.
Elspeth.
All of it faded into a distant haze.
Her mind went quiet.
Still.
Content.
Only one thing remained clear.
Chicita’s voice.
“She is strong,” the beast caller whispered. “And she will slowly learn where she belongs.”
Chandra smiled faintly.
—
The place was enormous.
That was Chandra’s first clear thought.
It wasn’t just a gathering anymore… Not a camp, nor a clearing, nor a temporary celebration after a narrow escape. This was a full tavern atmosphere, stretched far beyond anything a normal building should have been able to hold.
Tables ran in long rows beneath hanging lanterns. Music echoed from multiple directions at once… drums, pipes, strings, and the constant undercurrent of laughter. Satyrs danced on tabletops. Nymphs carried trays of drinks that never seemed to run empty. Someone had set up a roasting pit large enough for an entire beast.
And the crowd…
Gods, the crowd was huge.
Chandra leaned against a thick wooden pillar, a mug in her hand, watching the movement with a slow grin.
“Okay,” she murmured. “This is… actually a pretty great party.”
She took a drink.
The warmth settled easily in her chest.
The strange thing was, she couldn’t remember when she’d arrived inside.
Or how long she’d been here.
The memory blurred together into flashes: laughing with a group of satyrs, joining a loud drinking contest she was pretty sure she’d won, someone convincing her to light a controlled fire display that had turned into something slightly less controlled and gotten a huge cheer.
Fun.
Lots of fun.
Maybe a little too much fun.
Chandra straightened and took a slow breath.
“Okay,” she said quietly to herself. “Break time.”
She slipped away from the densest part of the crowd, weaving between tables and dancers until the music softened slightly and the press of bodies gave her some space.
A wide hallway, or maybe just a quieter edge of the massive interior, opened near one wall. She stepped into it and leaned back against the wood, closing her eyes for a moment.
In.
Out.
Right.
Focus.
She was here for a reason.
Ajani. Missing Elspeth. Theros creatures on Naya.
That part still mattered.
She opened her eyes.
And immediately noticed the floor felt… farther away.
Chandra frowned and pushed herself upright.
She was taller.
Not a little taller.
A lot taller.
Her head nearly brushed a hanging lantern that definitely should have been well above her reach before. Her shoulders felt broader too, her center of balance higher than she was used to.
“…Huh,” she said.
She shifted her weight.
Her stance felt strange, like she was standing on the balls of her feet.
Except it didn’t feel strained.
It felt natural.
Comfortable.
She glanced down.
Her legs bent differently now, the joints angled in a way that lifted her heels off the ground entirely. Digitigrade. Like a predator’s stance. Like she was always ready to spring forward.
Chandra took a step.
Then another.
Her stride felt lighter. More energetic. Bouncy, almost.
She blinked once.
Then shrugged.
“Okay,” she decided. “Weird party magic. Probably.”
The explanation felt good enough.
More importantly—
She was still smiling.
The warmth from earlier hadn’t faded. The excitement of the celebration still buzzed under her skin.
And honestly?
She was having a great time.
Chandra leaned back against the wall again, arms crossed loosely.
“Alright,” she told herself. “Party later. Investigation now.”
She glanced back toward the crowd.
All these satyrs and nymphs. All from Theros. All somehow gathered here in Naya.
Someone had brought them.
Something had moved them.
And if she wanted answers…
Her thoughts drifted.
Chicita.
The name came easily.
Chandra’s expression softened without her realizing it.
She had only met the elf a little while ago, but somehow Chicita just… understood things. Didn’t push. Didn’t judge. Just talked, listened and explained.
It felt easy around her.
Comfortable.
Safe.
Like she could probably tell Chicita anything.
Which was weird.
Because they’d literally just met.
Chandra frowned slightly.
“Yeah, that’s… probably something I should think about,” she murmured.
“Thinking too hard is tiring.”
The voice came from behind her. Warm and familiar.
Chandra turned.
Chicita stepped out from the shadow of a support beam, carrying two fresh drinks. She offered one without a word.
Chandra took it automatically.
“Hey,” she said, smiling. “I was actually just thinking about you.”
“I know,” Chicita replied gently.
She stepped closer.
Close enough that Chandra didn’t even think about personal space.
Close enough that her hand could reach up.
The first touch landed on the top of Chandra’s head.
A slow, gentle pat.
Chandra’s shoulders dropped instantly.
Then Chicita’s fingers slid down to the base of her ears.
And scratched.
Soft.
Rhythmic.
Right along the sensitive edge where fur had grown thick and warm without Chandra ever really noticing when it happened.
“Oh,” Chandra breathed.
The hallway blurred.
The music softened.
Her thoughts… about Ajani, about Elspeth, about Theros and Naya and missing planeswalkers… slipped like loose pages in the wind.
“You don’t have to think so hard,” Chicita murmured.
Scratch.
Pat.
Scratch.
“You’re doing fine.”
Chandra nodded slowly.
Yeah.
She was.
The questions didn’t feel urgent anymore.
The investigation could wait.
The party was still going.
And Chicita was here.
Her mind softened.
Slowed.
Emptied.
By the time Chicita’s fingers stopped moving, there were no thoughts left at all.
Only warmth.
Only comfort.
Only the quiet certainty that wherever Chicita led her next…
That was exactly where she was supposed to be.
—
The music was louder now.
Or maybe Chandra was just closer to it.
The great hall had become a roaring center of motion and heat. Tables had been pushed aside to make room for dancing. Someone had set up a ring where satyrs were competing in drinking contests while a crowd shouted encouragement. Flames burned safely in suspended braziers overhead, their heat mixing with the warmth of bodies and celebration.
Chandra stood in the middle of it all.
And towered.
She was easily the tallest person in the room now. Even the largest satyrs barely reached her shoulders, and the few minotaurs scattered through the celebration had begun giving her appreciative, respectful glances.
She flexed one arm.
The muscle shifted thick and heavy beneath her skin, no, beneath the faint layer of coarse fur that had spread along her forearms without her ever quite noticing when that had started.
“Like what you see,” one of her heads said, admiring the movement. “Anyone want to mess with these bad girls again?”
“As if!” the other added, taking another drink.
Yes.
Two heads.
Chandra blinked.
Then blinked again.
Still two.
They sat side by side on her shoulders, sharing the same broad, powerful body. Both with the same wild red hair, though it now fell thicker and longer around them, streaked faintly darker toward the ends.
They shared the same memories. The same sense of self.
But their thoughts… split, sometimes.
The left one grinned at the dancing crowd.
“This place is incredible.”
The right one wiped foam from her mouth.
“And the drinks keep getting better.”
Below them, their body had changed just as much.
She was bigger. Taller… easily two and a half meters now. Broad through the shoulders, thick through the chest and stomach, strength layered visibly over every movement.
Her legs had shifted even further. The digitigrade stance had lengthened into full canine structure. Long and powerful lower limbs ending in heavy paws that gripped the floor easily despite the constant motion around her.
Even her hands had changed. Fingers thicker. Nails dark and curved into blunt claws that tapped lightly against the side of her mug.
She flexed them experimentally.
“I can feel the power of the party coursing through me!” the left head shouted.
“You think it's not just the alcohol you feel?” the right giggled.
Neither of them questioned any of it.
Because honestly?
She felt great.
Strong, warm and alive.
And the party was still going.
Eventually, after another drink, and a brief but enthusiastic argument between her heads about whether to join a wrestling circle, Chandra pushed her way toward the edge of the crowd again.
“Okay,” the right head said. “Break.”
“Yeah,” the left agreed. “We should probably… do the thing we came here for.”
They found a quieter section along the wall and leaned back against it, the wood creaking faintly under their weight.
Both heads took a slow breath.
Right.
Focus.
Ajani.
Elspeth.
Theros creatures on Naya.
Investigation.
The thoughts were still there. Shared. Clear enough.
But they felt… distant.
Muted.
Like something important that could definitely wait until after the party.
The left head tilted slightly.
“You know who we should ask?”
The right head didn’t even hesitate.
“Chicita.”
Both of them nodded.
That made sense.
Chicita always knew what was going on. She had a way of explaining things that made everything simple. Easy.
Comfortable.
She wasn’t just someone they’d met anymore.
She was—
“An old friend,” the left head said.
“Honestly, kind of a mentor,” the right added.
Someone they should probably just listen to.
Because whenever things got confusing…
Chicita knew what to do.
“Thinking again?”
The voice came from behind them.
Both heads turned at the same time.
Chicita stood there, calm as always, carrying two fresh mugs despite the fact that Chandra already had one.
She handed them over anyway.
Both heads accepted.
“You worry too much,” Chicita said gently as she stepped closer.
The left head opened her mouth.
The right head took a drink.
Chicita’s hands rose.
One settled between the two heads.
The first pat landed softly.
Both of them froze.
Then her fingers moved outward.
One hand to each head.
And scratched.
Right behind the ears.
Slow.
Careful.
Perfect.
“Oh wow,” the left head breathed.
“Yeah,” the right agreed immediately.
The hallway softened.
The music faded.
Their thoughts… about Ajani, about Elspeth, about questions and investigations and plans… loosened all at once.
Scratch.
Pat.
Scratch.
“You don’t have to figure everything out,” Chicita murmured.
Both heads leaned into the touch without thinking.
“You’re doing exactly what you’re meant to do.”
The left head stopped thinking about the investigation.
The right head forgot what she’d been about to say.
The shared mind between them went quiet.
Warm.
Still.
Empty.
By the time Chicita’s hands withdrew, both heads were smiling faintly.
No questions.
No worries.
Just the steady, comfortable certainty that whatever came next…
Chicita would take care of it.
—
The joke had been good.
At least, two of Chandra’s heads thought so.
The third had rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too.
“…and then the satyr says, ‘That’s not a torch, that’s my other leg!’”
All three of them laughed, their voices overlapping, one loud and wild, one sharp and playful, one deeper and steadier with quiet amusement.
The table around them shook slightly from the force of it.
Everyone nearby cheered. Someone else raised a drink toward them.
Chandra raised all three of her mugs at once. A feat easily achievable with only two arms, even if drinking from all of them simultaneously was definitely not a great idea.
Then, a moment later, the wild head blinked.
“…Okay.”
The quippy one yawned.
The calm one nodded slowly.
“Tired.”
Not exhausted or weak.
Just… heavy. Warm. And full.
The kind of tired that came after too much laughter, too much noise, too much good energy all at once.
“Break,” the calm head decided.
“Yeah,” the quippy one agreed.
“Then back to the party,” the wild one added immediately.
They pushed back from the table and stood.
Chandra ducked automatically as she moved, one hand bracing against a beam overhead that had definitely been higher earlier.
Or maybe she had gotten taller again.
That seemed more likely.
She stepped carefully through the crowd now. Not because she felt unsteady, but because she simply took up space, and a lot of it. Satyrs and nymphs parted instinctively to let her pass, looking up with wide eyes and excited grins.
Some reached out to touch her arm as she went by.
The wild head grinned at them.
The quippy one winked.
The calm one gave a proud nod.
She reached her usual quiet corner.
And had to crouch slightly just to fit into it.
“…Yeah,” the quippy head said. “Sometimes I feel like we have gotten bigger.”
A lot bigger.
Chandra stood nearly three and a half meters tall now, her massive frame filling the space like a living wall. Her arms were enormous, thick with layered muscle beneath a coat of dark, coarse fur. When she flexed, the motion rolled like shifting stone, strength piled on strength.
Her legs were even heavier. Fully canine now, thick and powerful, built for explosive movement and impossible weight. Each paw spread slightly against the floor when she settled, claws clicking softly against the wood.
Her torso was broad and solid, her abdomen sharply defined beneath the fur, every movement controlled and powerful.
Her hands, still somewhat humanoid in shape, ended in thick, curved claws that could easily have torn through armor if she’d ever wanted them to.
Three heads rested above that body now.
The wild one, eyes bright and restless.
The quippy one, relaxed and amused.
And the third, that was more calm, steady and proud. And then she spoke up.
“We’re strong.”
The wild head grinned wider.
“Really strong.”
The quippy one lifted a mug that had somehow come with them.
“I wonder why we never thought about that before. Seems like a weird thing to miss.”
Chandra leaned back slightly, settling into the corner.
She could feel the energy of the celebration around her like warmth against her skin. Music vibrating through the floor. Laughter echoing through the air.
This was her place.
Not just a guest anymore or someone passing through.
She belonged here.
The calm head’s voice lowered, steady and certain.
“We do our thing, we protect everyone… for this. Isn’t this the sight we live for?”
The wild head nodded eagerly.
“No one messes with our party.”
The quippy one raised her drink in agreement.
“And anyone who tries gets burned.”
More than that.
The thought settled deeper.
She wasn’t just protecting the party.
She was protecting her.
Chicita.
The calm head’s expression softened.
“Mistress.”
The word felt right.
Comforting.
Clear.
Chicita knew what she was. Understood her strength. Knew when to guide, when to calm, when to let her run free.
No one else could do that.
No one else should.
The wild head’s eyes gleamed.
“No one else can tame us.”
The quippy one smirked.
“And honestly? Good luck to anyone who tries.”
The calm head finished the thought quietly.
“We are her beast.”
A soft voice spoke behind them.
“My beast.”
All three heads turned at once.
Chicita stood there.
Calm and steady. Exactly like she always does.
Chandra straightened immediately, all three heads lowering slightly in instinctive respect.
“Mistress,” the calm head said.
Chicita smiled faintly.
“You’ve grown well.”
The wild head beamed.
The quippy one looked pleased.
The calm one stood taller.
Chicita stepped closer, one hand resting briefly against the massive furred shoulder. The touch alone sent a warm, steady calm through all three minds.
“I need you to come with me,” she said gently. “Outside.”
All three heads answered at once.
“Of course.”
Chandra rose.
The movement forced her to crouch lower than before, her massive frame barely fitting through the interior pathways as Chicita led the way. The music grew louder for a moment as they passed through the central space—
Then quieter.
Then distant.
The light ahead grew brighter.
Chandra followed without hesitation.
She trusted Chicita completely.
They stepped through the exit.
And into open air.
The jungle of Naya stretched around them.
Torchlight flickered across a clearing through the beautiful night.
And behind them—
All three heads slowly tilted upward.
The structure they had just walked out of rose above the trees.
This massive, towering, wooden structure they had just left.
The shape was unmistakable.
A great Akroan war-horse.
Except this one was alive.
Its enormous wooden legs were planted deep into the earth. Its carved flanks rose like fortress walls. Lantern-light glowed from openings along its sides. From within its hollow body, music and laughter still poured out endlessly.
The party.
All of it.
Had been inside.
The calm head spoke first, voice quiet with awe.
“…That’s not a building.”
The wild head grinned.
“That’s so awesome.”
The quippy one blinked.
“…Wait.”
The three sets of eyes followed the long carved neck upward.
Toward the massive figure rising from the front of the structure.
This armor. That white and gold.
All three heads spoke together.
“Elspeth?”
The massive body of the great wooden beast turned and lowered her gaze.
Light from the lanterns within the massive structure spilled across the clearing as the towering figure at its front shifted her weight. The sound of carved hooves settling into the earth rolled through the ground like distant thunder.
“Elspeth,” the calm head said again, more certain this time.
The massive figure turned toward them.
Her upper body was unchanged, armor bright even in the torchlight, face serene and distant, but everything below her waist was the vast wooden form of the living war-horse, hollow and alive with music and laughter that echoed faintly through her frame.
Her eyes found Chandra and her eyes flickered with joy. And then a warm, almost relieved smile spread across her face.
“Chandra,” Elspeth said, her voice carrying easily despite her size. “You’ve come.”
The sound of celebration still hummed through her body as she shifted slightly, careful now, more careful than before.
“I see the revel has found you as well.”
She studied Chandra’s towering, three-headed form.
“Have you embraced the blessing of our dear god Xenagos?”
All three of Chandra’s heads blinked.
Then the wild one barked a laugh.
“Blessing? From a god?”
The quippy head snorted.
“Please.”
The calm one folded her arms, claws resting against thick fur.
“I don’t serve anyone,” she said firmly. “Never have. Never will.”
The wild head leaned forward slightly, grinning.
“And no puny god is strong enough to make me.”
The quippy head added with a smirk:
“Especially not one who we have never even heard about before.”
Elspeth didn’t react with anger.
If anything, her expression softened further, like someone watching a friend who simply hadn’t understood something yet.
Before she could respond, Chicita stepped forward.
Her voice was gentle, but firm.
“Chandra,” she said, “Xenagos is the god I serve.”
All three heads turned toward her immediately.
Chicita met their eyes calmly.
“He is the one who showed me the freedom of the revel.”
She placed a hand lightly against Chandra’s massive arm.
“And the strength you feel now? The power burning inside you?”
Her gaze held steady.
“That, too, comes from him.”
A quiet pause settled.
The wild head blinked.
The quippy head tilted slightly.
The calm one frowned, thinking.
“…Oh,” the quippy head said after a moment.
The wild one scratched her cheek.
“Well.”
The calm head straightened.
“…Okay. That does change things.”
All three heads nodded once.
“Some gods,” the calm one admitted, “might not be so bad.”
The wild head grinned again.
“Especially if they make us stronger.”
The quippy one raised a clawed finger.
“And throw good parties.”
Chicita’s hand gave a small, approving pat.
Before anyone could speak again—
The jungle roared.
Something clearly outside the party, coming from deep within the jungle.
Something heavy crashed through the trees beyond the clearing. Then another impact. Then a deep, furious bellow that shook leaves loose from the canopy.
Elspeth turned immediately, her massive body shifting to shield the openings along her sides where light and laughter spilled out.
Two shapes burst from the jungle.
Godbeasts.
One horned and plated, its hide like layered stone. The other long-limbed and scaled, its jaws wide enough to swallow a satyr whole. Both probably drawn by noise.
And charging straight toward the celebration.
The wild head’s eyes lit up instantly.
“Oh heck yes."
The quippy one cracked her neck.
“Now this is more like it.”
The calm head’s voice dropped, steady and certain.
“This is what we’re for.”
Heat surged through her body.
Fire bled through her veins, answering the excitement, the purpose, the need. Flames burst to life along her shoulders and arms, rolling across her fur without burning it.
Her hair ignited next, black and red fire roaring upward like a living banner.
The ground scorched beneath her paws as she stepped forward.
Every muscle tightened.
Every instinct sharpened.
She turned her heads briefly toward Elspeth.
“You protect the party,” the calm head said.
The wild one bared her teeth at the approaching beasts.
“This—”
The quippy one finished, grinning.
“—is our fight.”
Flames exploded outward as she lunged.
The massive hellhound form surged across the clearing, each stride tearing up earth and sending sparks flying behind her. Fire gathered around her claws, along her jaws, across her shoulders in a growing storm of heat and light.
The godbeasts roared.
Chandra roared louder.
She hit the first one like a living meteor.
Flame erupted on impact.
Behind her, the music inside Elspeth’s hollow form never stopped.
And at the edge of the clearing, Chicita watched calmly as her beast of the revel tore into the fight, protecting those who celebrated in her god's name.
Powerful. Eager.
And utterly loyal.