The shifting Ceremony
1416 Words
"I know today’s been rough," Maria said gently, brushing a stray curl behind my ear, "but your transformation ceremony begins soon."
I nodded, too tired to speak, my heart still raw. Maria led me up the narrow staircase to her apartment above the clinic.
The space was small, warm, and filled with the kind of quiet comfort I’d never known at home. The soft lamplight bathed everything in gold. Dried lavender hung from the rafters. Worn rugs warmed the creaking floorboards, and old books were stacked beside her favorite armchair. It smelled like clove tea, parchment, and peace.
It smelled like safety.
It was nice… having someone take care of me. That wasn’t something I was used to.
Maria crossed to a carved wooden chest tucked in the corner. Her fingers brushed over the lid before she opened it and pulled out a dress—white and shimmery, with a choker collar and a flowing floor-length skirt that glimmered like mist under the lamplight.
“This was my ceremony dress,” she said softly, her fingertips gliding reverently over the fabric. “They’re supposed to be passed from mother to daughter. But my mother gave it to my sister—her favorite child. I had to buy my own.”
She looked at me, eyes warm.
“I want you to have it. It’s enchanted.”
I blinked. “But... you’re shorter than me.”
She smiled. “The magic adjusts. It knows that on this night… it belongs to you now.”
My throat tightened.
I couldn’t believe she was giving it to me. Based on everything she’d told me—how hard it had been, how much this dress meant—I was stunned. She really did see me like her daughter.
And tonight, I’d wear the proof of that love.
The bath was already waiting.
Steam curled into the air as I stepped into the tiled washroom. Glowstones shimmered beneath a clear, glass-like layer at the bottom of the tub, their soft blue light casting ripples on the walls. I couldn’t feel them beneath my feet—only warmth, like moonlight trapped in water.
The surface was scattered with crushed moonflower petals, chamomile, and lavender. The petals brushed against my skin—soft, lush, smooth as silk.
I slipped into the bath, and a sigh escaped my lips as the heat embraced me.
Back at my mother’s, a warm bath was a luxury. If I wanted one, I had to heat the water on the stove and carry pot after pot just to fill the basin. She never drew one for me. Never lit candles. Never cared.
But here… here I was wrapped in comfort. In care. In love.
The scent of moonflower drifted around me—cool and floral, like rain after a drought. My limbs loosened. My aching fingers relaxed. For the first time in forever, I felt something close to peace.
I let myself drift.
What had her first shift been like? Had anyone prepared her? Had she been just as alone?
A pulse throbbed beneath my skin. I sat up, blinking. My temples throbbed.
“It’s starting,” Rose whispered. Her voice was tight. “High moon is almost here.”
The ache in my skull deepened. Magic stirred in my blood like a tide turning.
I climbed from the tub, water trailing down my skin in slow, glittering rivulets. I wrapped myself in the soft robe Maria had left on the stool, the fabric warm against my damp skin.
It was time.
Maria was waiting with a brush in hand and soft determination in her eyes.
She guided me to the vanity and gently began combing out my damp hair, her fingers careful around the sore spots left by the day. She worked in silence at first, shaping my hair into soft waves, then weaving two delicate braids on either side and pinning them together at the back.
When she was finished, she stepped back and whispered,
“Oh Moon Goddess, Mother of Night…
Shield this pup with your enchanting light.
Guide her tonight as she transforms,
And give her the strength to weather all storms.”
I closed my eyes.
The words sank into me like warm rain, and I swore—for just a heartbeat—I felt something answer.
Maria helped me slip into the dress.
The moment it touched my skin, it responded—flowing over me like silk and starlight. The fabric shimmered like a chandelier under moonlight, clinging to my curves and falling weightless around my legs. As I exhaled, the gown seemed to breathe with me—warm, enchanted, and alive.
Maria blinked back tears. “You’re ready.”
I met her gaze in the mirror. My eyes were wide, uncertain—but glowing. The shimmer on my lids caught the light, soft blush warmed my cheeks, and the gloss on my lips gave me just enough shine to feel like I belonged in this skin.
Like I was becoming someone new.
And someone ancient all at once.
The pack house glowed in the distance, its wide clearing lit by rows of moon lanterns swaying gently in the night breeze. The air buzzed with quiet anticipation. Families huddled together in clusters—loved ones wrapped in blankets, holding hands, whispering prayers.
I had Maria.
That was enough.
We took our place at the front with the three others chosen to shift tonight. My heartbeat thundered in my chest as the crowd fell silent.
Then the moon rose.
It crested over the trees—full, round, and radiant. Light spilled over us like silver fire, soft and warm and endless.
It felt like a blessing. Like an embrace.
The pain came next.
It started as a flicker—an ache in my joints, a heat in my chest. Then it surged—sharp, raw, burning. My bones twisted. My spine arched. My breath broke into gasps as something ancient awakened within me.
It felt like lightning was crawling through my veins.
Around me, the others screamed. I did too.
Maria stayed beside me, her voice a soft thread of comfort. “Breathe. You’re almost there.”
Rose howled inside me, fierce and wild. “We’re almost there.”
My skin burned. My soul trembled.
And then—everything shattered.
I collapsed to all fours, gasping. But the gasp was not mine. It was deeper. Broader. My vision snapped into crystal clarity—the world painted in moonlight and shadow.
I stood shakily and padded forward on four paws. My claws sank into the damp grass. My breath puffed in delicate clouds.
The ceremonial fountain shimmered ahead. I stepped closer and looked down.
Silvery-gray fur, soft and luminous. Eyes of citrine fire.
“Rose…” I whispered, awe catching in my chest.
She was beautiful.
Only in my wildest dreams could I have imagined I’d have such a wolf.
The crowd stared, murmurs rippling through the field.
“Why are they looking at us like that?” I asked.
“Because we’re special,” Rose replied.
A familiar auburn wolf bounded toward me—Maria.
Her paws were tipped in white, her ears brushed with pale snow. She nuzzled me gently, her warmth unmistakable even in this new form.
Without words, we ran.
Tradition said a wolf’s first run should end by the sea. I didn’t know why, but I understood it now.
We darted into the woods, paws thudding against the mossy earth. Wind surged past us, cool and sweet. The world was new—almost like I was seeing everything for the first time. The grass seemed greener. The flowers brighter. The stars above shimmered like they were watching.
Every scent was alive: pine bark, wet stone, salt on the breeze. The forest pulsed with energy—ancient and humming with life.
We burst from the trees onto the cliffside trail. Below us, the ocean roared, the waves crashing like drums of the deep. Salt spray sparkled in the moonlight like diamond dust.
We made our way down to the white sands, our paws kicking up the cool earth.
At the edge of the sea, I stopped.
The tide shimmered under the moonlight. The waves whispered secrets.
And there—reflected in the water—was me.
Silvery fur glowing in the dark. Luminous eyes burning like twin suns.
Beautiful. Wild. Whole.
Rose’s voice echoed within me, no longer a whisper but a promise.
“This is only the beginning.”
- Writer
