Deep within the damp, subterranean stone chamber, the air is thick with the scent of burning torches and dense purple smoke. Cloaked cultists stand in a tight circle, their faces obscured by dark hoods as they chant in low, rhythmic unison. They hold their torches high, directing all their dark magic toward the glowing ritual circle burned into the floor.
At the absolute center of the glyph stands Corrin, the draconic princess. She is completely trapped, her bare feet unable to lift from the stone as the intense, pulsing purple energy of the magic circle surges directly up into her core.
As the purple flames continue to lick up from the circle, Corrin's massive frame lets out a deep, resonant rumble, her skin tightening another fraction of an inch as she completely surrenders to the dazing, heavy pressure of her new, spherical shape.