Slithering toward the elevator, I was about to stuff myself inside and ride up to Heggy's office when a wyrm slithered from around the corner. He blinked when saw me, nostrils flaring.

He quickly approached me.

My budding spines drooped.

Lopé.

Nina's spirit appeared beside me, clad in angst and denim. Lopé's wordless reaction—his back spines sticking up straight—immediately told me that he could see her. He stopped moving once I was within reach and then stuck out his hand at me, claws splayed.

"Dr. Howle," Nina said, "I think he wants to link with you."

Obviously, I thought-replied.

Someone must have told him about the spirit-swapping ability.

"Are you ready, Nina?"

Yeah." She nodded. "You did promise me you'd—"

"—I know," I nodded, "I know."

Sighing, I slithered forward and grabbed Lopé's hand. We squeezed, interweaving our claws. Then came the blossoming tingle, and my awareness fell into myself and landed in a mental elsewhere.

Nina and I stood next to one another in the aisle of the nave of a 'Demptist church. A pipe organ whispered plagal cadences in the background. Shafts of sunlight reached down from the clerestory windows, and in a cone from the ceiling eye up not far in front of us ahead. Both the floor and the empty pews were made from lushly varnished, thick-grained wood. Behind us, a pointed-tipped double doorway opened. It was a portal of pure light, and whatever world lay beyond was too bright for us to make out any of its details.

Nina looked around in moderate astonishment and muttered. "Huh…"

A wind blew through the doorway, reaching across the empty pews. You could call the wind pure, luminous, and invigorating, or lonesome and cold.

I knew which interpretation I was going with.

I had a really bad feeling that Lopé hadn't changed in the least.

Then a figure stepped out from the shadow at the edge of the ceiling eye's spotlight.

Nina gasped, and then covered her mouth in shock.

It was hard for me to look, too.

The young boy who walked toward us down the aisle was no longer Lopé Broliguez. I had to hand it to him, the kid really had "transformed" himself. His mental avatar was pasty white, with red freckles, golden blonde hair, and eyes almost as blue as Andalon's. He wore black spats polished to a sheen, dark brown slacks, a fully-buttoned white shirt, and a necktie striped in the Trenton blue and green.

It was sobering, to say the least.

It just goes to show you: there were far worse things one could become than a fungal lindwurm.

I stuck out my arm in front of Nina, barring his path to her. I shook my head.

All this time, I'd been referring to Lopé by his birth name, mostly out of the hope that something of his old personality was still left in him. And yes, I was very much aware that he preferred to go by "Paul" now, and that my refusal to do so meant that I was, technically, deadnaming him.

Ugh.

For some people, there came a time when the person they'd been showing to the world up until then had to be changed. With some, like Zongman Lark, it was a matter of peeling off an inauthentic skin to reveal a deeper truth. For others, like Lopé, it was a conscious choice to march to the beat of a different drummer. Either way, your deadname was the name of the skin you left behind. Some people didn't mind it too much when they were brought up; others, however, very much did.

It was hard for me not to feel like a hypocrite. On the one hand, I'd admonished Jonan for not using Lark's preferred pronouns, on the other, I'd insisted on viewing Paul as the Lopé he no longer wanted to be, and it would be the height of disingenuousness to argue that one was valid but the other wasn't. So, I didn't.

Not every dialectic resolved in synthesis. Sometimes, you just had to part ways; amicably, if possible.

I looked Nina in the eyes, which were starting to well up with tears—and not the good kind.

I briefly closed my eyes and sighed. "Hello, Paul," I said. I tried to sound as non-judgmental as possible. Admittedly, that display was a white lie, but a necessary one.

Paul smiled back at us. He nodded at his sister. He was clasping his hands in that peculiarly 'Demptist way, with his palms pressed flush against one another and his fingers sticking out at right angles, like a bird's wings.

"Hello, Dr. Howle." He bowed politely, first to me, then to his sister. "Nina."

Nina waved her arm and spoke up, and loudly, too. "Paul… what did you do to yourself?" Her mouth was a rictus of disbelief. But then she gasped when she realized what she'd said—or, rather, what she hadn't.

She hadn't wanted to call him "Paul".

She tried to correct it. "Paul." She said, but it didn't work. "P-Paul. Pau… au…" She tried again and again, lips contorting, tongue clicking. Her tears quickened.

But it was no use.

She shook her head and cried, covering her mouth with her hand.

I glared at Paul. "What did you do?"

Nina looked me in the eyes. "I can't say his name. Every time I try to say it, it comes out—"

"—It's a sin to bear false witness, Nina," the boy replied. "Thankfully," he nodded, "you don't need to worry about sinning anymore." He spread his arms. "The Angel loves you, Nina." He smiled broadly. "He loves me, too. That's why He gave me the power to build Paradise right here."

Then he ran up and hugged her and cried. "I've missed you so much!"

Nina stared down at him, eyes bulging. Her arms were dead branches stiffened at her sides.

"Nina, Angel's breath, it was so scary! But… I had faith! I have faith enough for all of us. You'll be safe now, Nina, you and mom and dad and Quatémo. You won't need to sin any more!" He stepped back. "Isn't that great!?"

His toothy smile was pearly and perfect.

Nina looked at him in desperation, mouth agape, and then at me.

"Alright, so… how does this work?" Paul asked. "What do we need to do to transfer my sister over to me?"

I tried to diffuse the situation as diplomatically as possible, even though I wanted to hecking suplex the kid over one of the pews, but I kept my anger in check. I didn't want to unnecessarily antagonize Paul. Who knows what his reaction might have done to this shared mental space?

Obviously, though, I was not about to let Paul claim his sister's soul, not in a million years. I wasn't going to abandon her to that kind of hell.

They were still both my patients, after all.

"Paul," I said, "I think your sister might—"

—But to my surprise, Nina reached and pushed me back.

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"N-Nina?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry Doc." She balled her fist in front of her mouth. "I've got to do this myself." Then she wiped her tears on her short sleeves and stepped up to what her brother had become. "What did you do to my brother?" she asked.

Paul patted himself on my chest. "What are you talking about, Nina? I am your brother!"

Nina's voice broke. "No, you're not! Shit, you won't even let me say his fucking name!"

"My name is Paul, Nina," he replied. "Through the Angel's hallowed grace, and the Hallowed Beast's graceful might, I've been reborn, white and delightsome!"

He said it like it was a good thing. Yes, really.

Fricassee me…

I had to suppress a groan.

Nina shivered. "Is he… is my brother even in there?"

Paul started to cry. "Nina, I'm right here!" He struck his arm in a broad swing.

Nina stepped back. "I'm not going with you."

"W-What? No—no! You can't!" Paul said. He shook his head in dismay.

Waves of shock rippled out from him, making us shiver. "We're supposed to be together!" he said. "Families are meant to be together!"

Nina turned around and ran, her turquoise hair beads clacking together. Paul teleported in front of her and blocked her path. Nina's shoes screeched on the patterned wood floor as she skidded to a stop.

Paul floated in front of her like an icon of the Angel, his arms outspread. "Here, Nina: let me show you how I feel."

Then he reached out and placed his hands on either side of her head.

I tried to stop him, but his piety was just too strong. I couldn't pierce it in time. It swept out from him in waves that pushed me back.

I yelled. "Nina!"

There was a blinding flash, and Nina screamed. I crossed my forearms in front of my face, wincing at the light, and closed my eyes and shook my head.

I opened my eyes.

Nina was down on her knees. She shook from side to side, sobbing uncontrollably.

"What did you do to her?" I demanded.

Paul landed in front of us. "I shared the Angel's love with her."

I'll never forget the way his expression changed as his eyes darted over to his sister and saw what was happening to her.

Nina was… deforming. Her body bulged grotesquely, inflating like clusters of bubbles. She lashed out with her expanding limbs, knocking down a support column, bashing down a pew, and flattening more with a boulder-heavy footfall.

She screamed. "Make it stop!" Her voice distorted, stretching deeper and deeper. "Make it stop!"

Paul recoiled in terror.

Nina's face was a distorted tumor as she staggered toward the entryway. She grew into an ogre, and then worse. Her denim jacket rode up on her ballooning potbelly. She protruded a fang-sprouting underbite, head and broadening shoulders stooping over as her jacket-bursting back bent against the ceiling.

Paul tried to run to her, but I shoved him out of the way. We might have been sharing a mental space, but Nina was still under my care.

I stuck out my hand, whirling light coalescing around it. I projected it at her in a solid beam that froze Nina in place the instant it touched her. Her body flickered through static and bars of color like a moribund TV channel.

Gritting my teeth, I stepped forward, increasing the light's pressure. I could feel what Paul had shared with her.

Beast's teeth!

It was like acid, only made of thought. It was highly refined and incredibly powerful, and as caustic as wyrm spores.

And it was cruel.

He loved his sister deeply and fully. There was no denying that. It was genuine through and through, and, had it been only that, it might not have broken her. But it wasn't just love. There was a hate in it, a soft, insidious jealousy that refused to allow anything but itself to exist, and this memetic virulence itching to spread. Grow, grow, grow, it thought, and so it had.

Look what it had done to Nina.

The pipe organ crashed with dissonant chords.

I yelled. "Begone!"

My beam stopped as Nina's gigantic, mutated spirit-body exploded into shards of glistening light. The blast knocked Paul onto the floor. He stared wide-eyed and trembling.

I stepped forward and reached out, gathering Nina's light in my hand. It crystallized into a lozenge gem that hovered above my palm.

Nina's soul crystal.

Realizing what it was, Paul pushed himself up and lunged toward me, teeth bared and eyes wide. "Why are you doing this?" he barked. "She's my sister—my family!—not yours! Give her back!"

"Look at what you just did to her!" I brought the crystal close to my chest. "There's your answer!"

Paul yelled. "No!"

And then, like his sister before him, he began to change, only he brought this transformation on himself. He shot up to ten feet tall, limbs and chest bursting with muscle and leaden fur. A bristling, pine tree of a tail sprouted from behind him. Feet and hands turned to paws and claws. His skull cracked, snarling out razor teeth and a wet black nose, ears peaking high over yellow moon eyes.

He was anger werewolfing.

He stomped a foot, splintering the wood floor. "Give. Her. Back." His voice was the rumble of blood spilling down a storm-drain.

I shook my head. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Paul."

He opened his mouth, bearing his steaming wet fangs.

Then he roared and leapt at me. I blocked, sprouting a tail of my own—a giant pangolin's, no less—which I curved in front of me to stop the blow.

A single one of my tail's scales had to be as big as a fully spread hand.

Time slowed to a crawl.

Light vined along Paul's limb in our brief moment of contact. It carried a voice to my ears.

Miyali Broliguez's spirit was reaching out to me.

He's just a boy, Dr. Howle, she said. He doesn't know what he's doing. It's not a crime to be foolish, even if it breaks my heart.

What…?

He's got you, too? I thought-asked.

Ay. We're all here. My husband, my oldest son.

At that moment, I considered pulling them away from Paul.

Let me rescue you. You don't have to put up with his torments.

They were suffering, and they knew it, and yet…

Please, Doctor, my boy has suffered enough, her presence said, glowing through the luminous vines. Call me a fool if you want, I don't care. We're staying with him. Someone's gotta love him, you know?

Mama? The soul crystal in my hand glowed, too. Mama?!

I love you, baby girl.

You kick ass, mija, Mr. Broliguez said, and I love you for it. Always have, always will.

Then the light faded and time resumed its flow.

Paul leapt away from me. He stared at the arm the light had traversed, and then at me, and snarled. "What did you do?!"

I shook my head, keeping my tail on guard. "Nothing, Paul," I replied. "Your parents just wanted to say goodbye."

He clapped his jaws and stomped his foot, splintering more wood. "Liar!"

"You and I both know your mind keeps a record of everything your spirits do. You know what they said."

Growling, he kicked his feet free and bent down on all fours. He grew taller and more muscled, hairs bristling from an iron rail spine.

"I would be lying if I said I approved of your life choices, Paul. If anything," I said, "I pity you."

He pounced at me, claws bared, but I swatted him with my tail and knocked him back. He charged at me for a second time, but I grew my tail even bigger, curling it around myself in a 360° shield.

Paul slid back and reared up tall, his own tail lashing from side to side.

I looked at him over the side of one of my tail scales.

"But this isn't about the choices I'd want to make for myself, Paul, just as it isn't about the choices you'd want to make for yourself."

"Get to the point, already, you demon!" (Said the demon werewolf, bellowing like an oncoming train.)

I shook my head. "Is that really what you think I am?"

Paul flicked his claws. "You're holding my sister's soul hostage, damning her to Hell! With me, she'll find her way to Paradise!"

Nina's spirit flared in my palm.

Don't let him take me…

Angel, she hurt so much.

I won't, I thought-said back.

I sighed, relaxing my tail—but only a little. "Paul… if I wanted to, I could do to you what you did to Nina a moment ago and let you feel all of her emotions as if they were your own. Could you handle that without losing sight of your current convictions? I honestly don't know."

He snarled again, bearing his teeth. "I won't let you infect me with your lies!"

I nodded and sighed again. "That's what I thought."

"Wha?"

"You see, Paul, that's the difference between you and me. It's also the reason you can't have your sister's soul, at least not as you currently are."

"Spare me your prattle, atheist!"

"I'm not an atheist," I said. "I never was. I was an agnostic, once, but now, I believe in Andalon, the true Moonlit Queen."

Paul stepped back, his massive foot-paws pressing on the floor. His tail drooped as his jaw went slack, ears pressing flush against his head. "Of course… she's the Moonlit Queen." He shook his head. "Why didn't I see it before?"

"That isn't the point," I said. "What we believe doesn't matter." I pointed at Nina's crystallized soul. "It's what your sister believes that matters. If Nina had her way, she'd undo your conversion, just like you'd convert her if you had yours. And that's how you and I differ, Paul. You can't change someone who doesn't want to change, and nobody has the right to take that choice away from us, not even God. I already knew how important choice was, but my wyrm transformation has only deepened my appreciation of it." I exhaled sharply. "You two are still my patients, after all, and it's my professional neuropsychiatric opinion that it isn't safe for you and your sister to be together, not as long as the two of you can't accept each other's disagreements."

Tears glinted in the werewolf's eyes. He shrank in front of me. "Please… don't do this."

In a moment, he was little more than a pup.

I wept, too. "I'm not doing it because I want to," I said, "I'm doing it because you can't—and, let's be honest, neither can your sister. Maybe someday, you'll be able to look past the different stories you've chosen to live by. But until then, I think it's best that you keep your distance from one another."

"But I love her! She's my big sister!"

I bit my lip. "I know." I nodded. "I know."

And then I broke our link and disappeared.

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