It had been two years.
Two long years of training, converting, pain, frustrations, love…
Two long years.
I was looking at myself in the mirror. A picture of my former self was hanging on the wall.
“So you don’t forget,” Davincent had said. He was right. I had undergone so many changes; the physical was dramatic.
I looked most like a Vampire than anything, save for my hair. My skin was hard- harder than a Vampire’s, though, due to the Dragon’s protection. It was cold and pale (white, really). My jawline was hard, my nose angular, all my features were harsh. Harsh, but beautiful. The air around me seemed to radiate my cruel beauty. My hair was thick like fur, thanks to my Werewolf blood, but blonde, due to my Faerian blood.
I lifted my hands and flexed my muscles deftly. Blonde fur sprouted from my wrists and hands, claws shooting from the tips of my fingers like a werewolf. I bared my teath, fangs showed. Fangs were uncommon in Magical creatures, but so many of them were in me, it was inevitable.