A stone ring. One that transforms appearances. These are rare and cost a fortune. They're special stones that can take any form — rings, earrings, necklaces — anything. They're so versatile that the main rock they were mined from was stolen a few years ago. Since then, possessing or selling any form of it has been made illegal. The government couldn't keep control over how it was used anymore.
It's impossible to detect when someone's wearing it. The moment it merges with its owner, it changes their entire identity — and only separates upon death. That, or if someone transforms in front of you.
I've always been skeptical about magical items that bind to their owner — especially ones like this that don't separate until death. But honestly, in my situation? It's an asset. I have no power. And there are only twelve of these rings in existence.
I didn't hesitate. I slipped it on.
It disappeared instantly.
A sharp pain pierced my chest. I dropped to my knees, gasping. My breath caught in my throat, and I curled up on the rooftop of a random clinic, struggling to breathe. My lungs screamed for air. My fingers clawed at the ground. I panicked — five whole minutes of that torment — and then…
Suddenly, I was fine.
Unsteady, I rose and walked toward the edge of the building. I leapt across rooftops, moving as fast as my body would allow, before climbing down and landing in a quiet alleyway. My hands trembled from the aftershock of the ring, and I quickly covered my face.
Passing a window, I stopped. Something caught my eye — me.
I looked exactly the same.
My brows furrowed in confusion. I took off my hat, staring at my low-cut hair. Just then, I remembered our caretaker — the woman who'd been there when Dad first adopted Mara and me. She had the most beautiful curly hair I'd ever seen.
As I got lost in the memory, something itchy brushed against my shoulders. I flinched and grabbed it, startled. My fingers tugged at my scalp, then followed the length of… hair?
My eyes widened.
Long, almond-brown curls — soft, wild, and falling all the way to my waist.
I audibly gasped, staring at my reflection. My head whipped around to make sure no one saw. But then…
I caught sight of a man inside the mirror shop.
He was staring right at me — still holding his phone mid-call.
Shit.
He must've seen the transformation.
Panic shot through me.
I turned to leave, but before I could make a move, three officers rushed toward the scene. A crowd began to gather. The man must've reported me.
Shit.
I shoved past people, running. The officers chased me through the street. I took a sharp left, hoping to lose them, but more appeared at the other end of the road.
I turned to go back — but the ones behind me were gaining fast.
"Ah, fuck," I hissed under my breath, scrambling to climb a wall. I was almost at the top when something slammed into me from above.
A boot — firm and deliberate — collided with my shoulder and kicked me off the wall.
I crashed to the ground with a sickening thud.
Pain exploded in my chest. I couldn't breathe. I could feel the warmth of blood pooling under me. My ribs? Possibly broken. Everything inside me felt crushed.
My vision blurred.
A tall, shadowy figure stood in the sun, casting a dark silhouette over me. I winced — the light burned my eyes.
Black?
Oh, fuck my life.
I could feel the stares — people watching from a distance, their expressions twisted in disgust.
Right… I'm a deviant now. One of those "things" society despises.
I swallowed hard, forcing one last breath before everything went black.
---
I woke up.
A flash of white light blinded me. I winced, struggling to adjust. Voices echoed somewhere in the background.
"You almost killed her."
"I did as instructed."
"Are you serious? She's a rare breed!"
"What exactly is special about growing out hair?"
"It means she could be a shapeshifter, a merger… or something entirely new."
I could barely process what I was hearing — a high-pitched ringing drowned out most of it. I tried to sit up, but I couldn't move. My entire body felt numb. I groaned in pain.
Footsteps approached.
A petite woman in a lab coat stood over me, her green hair tied up in a rough bun. She wore round glasses, and in her hand was a syringe.
I flinched.
"Don't worry," she cooed with a creepy smile. "This will help us both."
I wanted to scream, to run, to move — but I was paralyzed.
She injected me with something — cold, thick, foreign.
My eyes darted around the lab. Everything was white. Too white. I looked for anyone — anything — and spotted a man in the shadows at the far corner of the room. His silhouette felt familiar.
I tried to cry out, but all I could do was clench the bedsheets in pain.
As soon as she pulled the needle out, my heart rate skyrocketed. Panic seized me.
I screamed.
The world spun wildly around me. My head pounded. I turned to look at the green-haired woman, and the moment our eyes met, she smiled — no, grinned.
An unhinged grin.
"A golden-eyed deviant," she whispered, her voice low and deranged.
The look in her eyes? It chilled me to my core.