At eleven years old, Jemi Garen met Queen Medusa. She promised her, stoutly, that she would be her strongest warrior.
Medusa laughed long and loud. “That will not happen, child.”
“Why not?”
“You may be sunblooded, but you are human, in the end,” she stated. “You cannot gallop like a horse can, cannot jump like a frog can, cannot fly like a bird can. You cannot poison like a spider, cannot tear flesh with your bare hands like a wolf. How can you last even a second against an angel?” The Queen raised her hand, and a shower of silver light materialised behind her, hammering down on the crossbow strapped across her back. It snapped, sending the weapon thudding to the ground.
“Without their piddling inventions, humans would not last a second in the real world.” The world of the wilderness, without rules or limits, was a merciless one. Compared to the brutes that prowled upon this earth, this immature girl was as helpless as a blind, wet, just-born rat. And yet-
“I could,” the girl declared. “…This is what I was born to become.”
The bear-man behind her gave a derisive snicker. The firefly had led Jemi to this Beast, whom she had tailed to the moon. She had been hiding in the bushes, watching the moon until the Beast sniffed her out, dragging her to face the Queen of the Moon. But that had been her intention.
At her proclamation, the Queen sighed, unconvinced. “Well, humans were also always sorry fools. But I shall not stop you.”
And so Jemi chose a suicidal plunge into the Moon. That night, she should have died. By the law of the fittest, a human would’ve never been strong enough to survive the Moon’s transformation, much less one as unhealthy as she was. But that night, a human girl survived because of a goddess’ morbid curiosity.
The Cockatrice clawed her way out of that shining lake with an eye that wasn’t hers, screaming until Medusa slipped something heavy over her forehead. One might’ve thought it a crude crown, or coronet. But it was neither; it slid down her temples, until it was perched over her nosebridge; shielding her eyes. It was a mask, black and beaked.
When she had come back to her senses, the bear-man standing in front of her moments ago had been frozen into stone.
Queen Medusa merely glanced his way for a second. She did not seem bothered. “…He would’ve been your chaperone, but he is currently indisposed. I suppose I will have to give you directions to the Den myself.”
A little awkwardly, the juvenile Cockatrice scooted past the ivory statue of the bear-man, glancing at them as she passed. His face was wrought in extraordinary detail: strips of bristling fur chiseled like wet dirt drawn through with a rake, darkened veins within his wide, petrified eyes. Did I kill him? Jemi wondered. Does that make me a murderer? The bear-man had ursine features, but he had still looked, talked, thought like a person. But he was a Beast. Was killing him any different from culling a cow for meat?
Jemi decided not to think about it.
As she ran through the forest, she took stock of herself. Yes, she was running—it was like the past days of hunger and thirst were a forgotten memory. And the pain in her joints and muscles was simply gone—she couldn’t find it, not even when she searched for it. Medicine and adrenaline had never managed to achieve something to this extent. What was left in its place was a strength so uninhibited it made Jemi feel giddy with glee. She tore through the jungle like a predator, clearing the brush like she were the wind itself. Somehow, she never lost track of where she was going. It was as if she, like those birds, now had an internal compass, too.
Finally, she reached the Den. It was the next afternoon by then, harsh sunlight piercing the jungle. Sequestered in the neck of woods directly to the west of Mount Casca, adjacent to the western kingdom of Archizoun. Jemi couldn’t believe how much distance she’d crossed, all the way from southern Fenlin on foot.
She pushed through the ferns. Here, she felt strangely cool, despite the sweat drenching her back. She walked up to the landmark: an angsana tree. It was old, but its wood was sturdy, as the species was known for. Its large, domed canopy provided her shade from the sun.
Stepping over its thick buttress roots, Jemi placed her hand on the trunk of this angsana. Against her palm, she felt a cold thrum through it. In the warm, muggy climate of inner Loukoumades, this was exceedingly unnatural. That was how Jemi knew that she was in the right place.
She knocked on the trunk.
“Ummm, hullooo,” the girl called uncertainly. “I’m from Queen Medusa?”
Silence.
“I’m a new Beast,” she went on. “I just drank from the moon, and Medusa told me to come here.”
More silence. Cicadas in the trees chirped. Jemi began to wonder if it had all just been a starvation-induced hallucination, and that she was just knocking on a random tree like an idiot.
But then, she heard a gruff voice. It seemed to be coming from within the angsana.
“Where is your chaperone?” it asked.
“I killed him,” Jemi answered. Then, flustered, she added, “On accident, I swear! It happened right after my transformation. Look, if your Queen hadn’t trusted me, she wouldn’t have told me the location of y’all’s den. Right?”
A pause. Jemi watched, in awe, as the trunk in front of her shimmered. Like silver dew beading atop the bark, they sparkled in the midday sun. Finally, a hole split open from the centre of the trunk, bark pried apart like a fluid curtain. Emerging from the apparently hollow tree was a looming figure. From head to toe it was covered in scaly hide, a large tail that thumped behind it. By all appearances it looked like a Komodo dragon standing on two legs. And wearing an apron. The apron was patterned with cartoon geckoes.
This bipedal, aproned lizard was squinting at Jemi in as much disbelief as Jemi was squinting at it.
“You’re supposed to be a Beast?”
You couldn’t blame the lizard for the scepticism. It was staring down at an eleven-year-old girl with dishevelled, dirt-gold hair, wearing a hunting cloak much too large for her. A black, glittering long-nosed mask balanced clumsily on her petite nosebridge. The red feather that plumed from the top added a further layer of ridiculousness.
Awkwardly, Jemi reached up as if to straighten the mask. It slumped back down again.
“Can’t you take that off?” asked the lizard.
“I don’t think it’s… safe,” Jemi said slowly.
“Huh,” said the lizard. “What animal did you use to be?”
Jemi, “A human.”
The lizard paused, its reptilian eyes widening. “That can’t be possible.” Then she saw a movement from behind Jemi.
Sticking out from below the girl’s cloak, a curling tail of red and sage feathers swished from side-to-side.
“.......” The lizard sighed. “Okay. My name’s Aunt Liz, by the way. Follow me inside.”
Jemi stepped into the hollow of the angsana, and the Beast named Aunt Liz pulled the curtain shut behind them. Then, as Jemi was blinking in disorientment, a silver light illuminated the darkness. She looked over to see the lizard’s scaly claws outstretched, a glowing ball floating above her palm.
“Lunaki,” Aunt Liz explained, her eyes kindly. “It’s the magic of the moon. It can light and cut, mutate and confuse, energise and poison. As a Beast, you’ll learn to use it in good time.”
Within the hollow was a set of stairs that spiralled downwards, tunnelling underground. Jemi tottered down the stairs after the Komodo dragon’s thumping footsteps.
“So, squirt. What’s your name?”
“Jemi,” replied the child.
“Cute,” Aunt Liz remarked. “Is it short for something?”
“.......No,” Jemi lied.
“Alright,” Aunt Liz rounded a corner. “Who was going to be your chaperone?”
“Uh, it was a dude with a bear head. And bear claws.”
“An onikuma?” Aunt Liz pondered. “Yeah, must have been Bouro. He was out looking for recruits a few nights ago.” She glanced back at Jemi, and must have been taking in how small and scrawny the girl was. “He’s one tough guy. Just how did you manage to kill him, anyway? And accidentally?” she asked, clearly bewildered.
“After I came out from the moon, I looked at him, and he died,” Jemi said truthfully, rubbing the rim of her mask. “Then Medusa gave me this mask. Is that normal? Can Lunaki do that?”
“...You better keep that mask on, I think, darling,” Aunt Liz advised. “What Beast are you supposed to be?”
“Uhh…” Jemi’s feathery tail curled as she thought. “Queen Medusa called me the Cockatrice.”
“Hm. Well, that’s a creature that’s half chicken and half snake, capable of petrifying its opponents on eye contact. It’s not a mythological creature many have heard of, but it’s quite fitting, I think.” Aunt Liz glanced at her. “I can see the chicken tail, but I’m not so sure about the snake part.”
“Tail?” Jemi hadn’t seemed to realise she had a tail. She stopped abruptly on the staircase and looked behind her. “Hooooly Prometheus! I have a tail!” She flicked it several times in astonishment.
“Yes, you do.”
“Then do I have snake fangs too? Two of my upper teeth dropped out a while ago…” She opened her mouth, tongue prodding her gums in the gaps where her baby teeth had fallen out. Her left side was still a gap, but the right side was filled by a sharp-pointed tooth. Her eyes lit up through the mask. “Yooo, that’s so cool! Does it actually inject venom?” Enthusiastically, she raised her arm, her mouth parted to chomp:
Aunt Liz held her back. “Hey, don’t go biting your own arm, now. Anyway, that’s just your canine tooth. Even in humans it’s supposed to be sharp.” Yet the elder Beast couldn’t help the amused smile that spread across her snout. “Still, we can get you a sponge or something to bite down on later, if you want to try.”
Fist-pumping the air, the birdmasked girl started skipping ahead down the stairs, singing. “Yayyy, I’m like a vampire!”
“Careful, it’s dark, you might trip. Chickens have bad night vision…”
“Well, snakes don’t!” Her colourful tail disappeared into the gloom.
Chuckling at her inanity, Aunt Liz hurried down the steps after her.
It was thus that the Cockatrice made her entrance into the Beasts’ Den. Just as she had in school, she quickly won over the hearts of the ones who lived there. Despite the fact that many Beasts bore grudges against humans, it was hard to hate a small and innocent child—plus, animals had always taken a liking to Jemi, for she could speak to them in their tongue. This extended to once-animals, too. Over the main cook Uncle Bern’s soup, they made good conversation over dinner. It was like a large, interspecies family, their den.
Next came her training. Though the Beasts’ Den gave off the impression of a family, it was ultimately still what it was: an army. Fortunately, she was a bright child who picked up quickly on anything. With Lunaki having seemingly stomped out her illness, she was in fantastic shape, too. She was started off as a petty thief, or pincher as the Beasts called it, in the streets. Being quick on her feet and innocent-looking, she excelled at this.
To her disappointment, when her adult canine teeth finally grew out, they turned out to be normal and decidedly unvenomous. However, the young Beast managed to acquire several other tools. Namely, magic. Over time, mentored by Aunt Liz and others in the den, she learnt to harness Lunaki. Crafting anointments for their arrowtips by funneling the silver-sparkling magic through poisonous plant extracts. How to morph solid objects to semi-liquid, allowing her to manipulate their shape like clay. Summoning the balls of light was eerily similar to Soleki—however, Jemi found Lunaki much easier to use than the sun’s magic. The malleable, fluid nature of Lunaki came more naturally to her than the rigid, laser focus needed for controlling beads of fire.
Every Beast, as Aunt Liz taught her, also needed periodic refuels of Lunaki by going to the moon to drink. Similar to how angels recharged Soleki by being exposed to sunlight. So Jemi followed a herd of Beasts to the moon approximately every week. Where most Beasts just came for their refuels and left, Jemi stayed behind.
“Your Majestyyy.” Hands cupped around her mouth, Jemi had called to her on that first refuel night. “Your Majestyyyyyy.”
“If you’re done drinking, you can go,” replied the Queen. The woman had always remained immersed from the waist down in the centre of the moon, silent whenever the Beasts drank and chattered among themselves. It was as if she were hardly there, like an ethereal statue built into the white lake. Now, after they had gone, her figure remained unchanged. Her eyelids were closed, dark skin obscured by pearlescent streams of hair, the picture of serenity.
“But are you gonna go too, your Majesty?”
“.......” The picture of serenity twitched.
“Or are you staying here all night?” Jemi chirped. “In that case, I’ll stay here all night too!”
“You should go to sleep,” Medusa said.
“Whaaaat. Do Beasts have bedtime too?”
“You are a functionally diurnal creature, whether as the Cockatrice or as a human. You’ll be sleepy in the morning.”