Chapter 1

I was flying, and strangely aware of myself, knowing that I was dreaming and marveling at my own imagination. Not far above were tufty dark clouds, cumulonimbus, and far down was the rich brightness of evergreen forest, with something more, a certain eldritch quality to it, a barely perceptible soft shimmering nimbus of indeterminate color, something like a kirlian aura.

I didn't have much time to marvel at the view, which was considerably better than what you could see from a plane's window seat, as what felt like a current of air pushed me down or pulled me along, an exhilarating weightless ride more thrilling than any amusement park could offer without viable zero-g tech. In the space of three breaths, I was amidst the trees, dodging trunks with dizzying speed, the most extreme racing game I'd ever played. It was over before I could blink, and I found myself inside a shallow earthen cave, gnarled dark brown roots visible on walls which shimmered bright with green-burning sigils, a small pile of items resting on a blanket, and the supine body of a nude woman lying on her back, limbs laid straight. The woman was almost familiar, though she was visibly lovelier than Lindsey, as she lacked any imperfection I could find and her coloration was more vibrant - with almost luminous and seemingly flawless alabaster complexion, hair a lustrous black, her features somehow finer and more refined than women could be in real life, if not exaggerated to the extent of anima. She was of medium height for a girl and possessed an athletic build, with a slender waist and a sloping, taut stomach, not so thin as to clearly display her ribs and with good muscle tone, her wavy midnight hair falling down to her shoulders. The vacantly staring cerulean eyes, slightly slanted, showed some Oriental heritage. I stared for a moment at her lovely breasts, rounded and tipped with pale brownish-pink nipples that rose from the center of cent-sized areolae, impossibly firm and upright even as she lay on her back, and my eyes quickly went down. Her pubic hair was sparse, very fine and just as black as on top, more suitable for a young teen than a woman who looked to be in her early twenties, though she did not seem to possess body hair anywhere else, and her eyebrows were very finely drawn, almost with a pencil. The cuntlips were closed and secretive, hinting erotically at virginity. Very nice indeed! Except for the vacant expression, it was like meeting Lindsey's photoshopped and air-brushed supermodel sister - with the nudity, make that porn star, one of those rare ones who possessed an aching beauty and deceptive innocence, the sort of young woman whose name you actively searched for when seeking smut to download.

I had barely those few moments to stare, before the wind propelled me violently forward and down at her body, the onset of terrible searing pain everywhere inside so powerful that I blanked out before screaming could even occur to me as a possibility.

I woke up with a gasp of fright, rising to my elbows and looking down with astonishment at the weight on my chest - those very familiar breasts I'd seen what felt like seconds ago! Looking around, blinking at the soft light from the cave entrance, I saw those very same root-studded walls, sans any burning sigils, and the pile of equipment I'd paid no real attention to - not with a naked girl to stare at. This didn't feel like a dream. Standing up to my full height quite deliberately, my head struck the ceiling and a thick, hairy root with a very painful thud, and I failed to wake up. I looked down, cupped my breasts, and went blank with shock.

<Snap out of it, SISTER!> an irate female voice sounded very loudly in my head an indeterminate time later. My head snapped up, and I cringed in pain as it once again hit the low ceiling.

"Who the fuck?" I looked around for the culprit, but cautiously and ever so deliberately. A few more blows and I'd lose what brains I had left - probably not much, given my present hallucinative state. Was my real body in a coma or a mental institution while I foamed at the mouth and babbled of the joys of femalehood and feminineship? Really, what the fuck was going on in this twisted version of unreality?

<Look to the pile of equipment> the voice sounded in my head, <I'm the spear>.

Unable to resist the rising curiosity, I went over and lo and behold, on top of a creamy white set of shirt and pants lay a spear, perhaps as long as I stood - crouched - tall, of an indeterminate bluish material. I touched it, stretching out a hand hesitantly, and the mental contact suddenly went both ways.

<Blue jade, hardened to adamant. I'm your living weapon> it obviously disdained the handle of 'bluish'. <Living weapon... > I started to ask before the information was just there. The pain I'd felt? A piece of my soul being ripped away to awaken the weapon. Instinctively, reflexively, I centered myself, harmonizing the flow of ki through my body and acquiring a more thorough understanding of what I could do.

"Holy macaroni!" I almost blushed at that 'curse', something I normally uttered around my mother.

<Yes, we are exactly that good> the spear sounded ridiculously self satisfied and stuffy, but I had no retort to offer. From the little self knowledge I'd suddenly acquired out of nowhere, I was a hazardous weapon of mass destruction, especially with my living weapon in hand. I went through a series of kata, martial arts practice moves, ending the flowing dance on one leg, the other curled up in crane stance, totally ready to kick ass, then shifted to angel stance – the only two martial art forms I appeared to be familiar with. Throughout my dance, the low hanging ceiling had been compensated for completely unconsciously and quite effortlessly. Crane was a defensive and reactive martial arts style, while the only angel technique I knew, the base form, allowed the use of ki to smite evil, much like a paladin's special power.

<Holy macaroni indeed> the dry voice practically remonstrated. <Now why don't you get dressed? You're not going to catch a chill, but still... >

Not going to ... okay, another self realization intruded. I was mostly human, but not entirely. The beauty was not quite completely natural, if admittedly not entirely out of bounds of CG and Photoshop adjustment of a real woman - I was inhabiting the body of an aasimar, a woman born with some celestial ancestry and blood, which explained how I knew of a martial art with angelic associations. With my encyclopedic knowledge of the bestiaries, barely flinching when classifying myself as a thing, a beast, a monster, I knew exactly what that meant, and realized that ordinary cold would never bother me, just as I could shrug off the touch of all but the most potent acids as well as low level electrical discharges.

On top of the little pile were the clothes, with a noted lack of underclothes or padding. Not that any were necessary beneath the smooth feel of magically fortified silk armor. It felt incredibly good against my skin, sinfully so, and was thick enough that my hardening nipples didn't show through. The armor was glamered, and with a small exertion of will I changed its looks to that of cold weather gear, thick and nondescript brown woolens. Beneath the silken clothes ... my eyes arrowed in on a note, in cursive script and black ink, "Bring the nymph queen's mirror shard to the center of the world" - the moment I'd read through to the last word, the small piece of paper burned away, sizzling soundlessly and instantly, leaving not a trace of its existence. "Great, we have a quest," I instantly felt intense trepidation rising in the hollow of my stomach. Playing an RPG is all very fine. Actually experiencing at first hand the injuries, discomfort and dangers that accompanied adventure was not something I particularly looked forward to. Still, I couldn't resist humming the Mission Impossible theme.