The barkeep, who introduced herself as Angela, came out from behind the counter and waved us over to the door by the side of the bar, unlocking it and pushing it inwards.
“What if I don’t know what I want?” my other self asked timidly. We stepped through the door after her and closed it softly behind us.
There was a smile in the sorceress’ voice. “The ritual looks deep into your mind for the template to transform you with. Rest assured it will be a form you are comfortable inhabiting, at the very least.”
When we turned around, the barkeep was already striding down one of the corridors that branched off from the little foyer we stood in. We took off after her.
“What’s your order called?” we asked curiously.
“That information will be revealed to you in time.”
“How can I swear my loyalty to an organization I don’t even know the name of?” my other self asked irritatedly.
The purple-eyed barkeep stopped outside a large door on the right side of the corridor. She took hold of the brass knocker to loudly pound on the door three times.
“You’re swearing your loyalty to a goddess, that’s important,” she said, “You’ll learn about my order once you have reason to protect it.”
The door opened moments later, and a breathless voice asked, “Yes Mistress?”
“We’ve got a volunteer trans girl for the order. Can you prep the ritual room for me, Katherine?” the sorceress responded.
“Of course Mistress!” Katherine replied chipperly. Angela smiled and turned to face us.
“Trans girl?” I asked her with a raised eyebrow.
She nodded. “That’s what we’ve taken to calling your kind,” she said, “You’re not the only woman who was raised from birth to be a man.”
The both of myselves were taken aback by this revelation. “There are others?” we asked with dangerous hope.
“Of course there are silly,” Katherine said as she walked out past us into the hallway. “Lots of us used to be just like you.”
Her hair was jet black with a jagged pink fringe, and she stood at least a foot taller than me. She continued walking further down the hall, and our attention quickly returned to Angela.
“She’s right, many of the girls who work here have stood in your shoes before. Though I’ll admit, few have been as calm about the whole thing as you,” the barkeep admitted.
My other self squeaked in surprise. “Ah, what?” she asked.
“Usually those brave enough to ask for it are nervous wrecks, you held yourself together well enough to cut straight to the point and ask me to change you.”
We rubbed the back of our neck, the both of us feeling warmth at the compliment. “Thank you,” we said softly.
“Of course,” the barkeep replied, “Now, let’s go over the details of the contract we’ll be forging between yourself and my goddess.”
She ushered us into the room that Katherine just vacated. It turned out to be a little office with a desk and three comfy-looking chairs. Angela sat at the far side of the desk, and I realized there was a little nameplate with ANGELA AMETHYST engraved upon it.
I took control of the body as we sat down on the near side of the desk. I had another question.
“Does it matter if there’s two selves in here?” I inquired.
The silver haired barkeep blinked, then looked fascinated, leaning forwards and resting her chin on her hands. “Are both selves in agreement on what their dream body is, and are they both willing to pay the price for it?”
Are we? my other self asked.
We are, I replied, your ideal body is my ideal body.
I nodded firmly to Angela. I imagined offering my other self a hug internally, and she took it and hugged me back tightly.
“Yes,” I said, “we’re in agreement.”
“Then there shouldn’t be an issue,” Angela replied. “The contract is technically bound to the physical body anyway, with its blood, so any identity living inside your head could theoretically sign it,” Angela replied.
I took a moment to process that, then nodded.
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“Okay,” I conceded.
There was a flash of purple light, and suddenly the sorceress was holding a scroll of parchment that she then proffered to me.
I took it carefully with both hands, unrolling it on the desk to read the flowery script within.
It was a rather official looking contract stating in straightforward terms that we, the contractees, would pay tribute to ‘the goddess’ in exchange for getting the physical body of our dreams. The tribute would be collected in the form of worship. I would have to perform rituals on the full and new moons dedicated to the goddess for five straight years. This ‘goddess’ was defined as an eternal being named Hekate.
We read through the document several times as we waited there, having to furl and refurl it multiple times as we went back and forth through the text. It was like five feet long, double sided. Angela showed no signs of hurry, so we took our time. There were clauses for what to do if we wanted to extend our service to Hekate, as well as reference to larger rituals we could do to strengthen our connection to the goddess. Apparently if we became devoted enough, the goddess would be able to grant us magic of our own and we’d sign a new contract at that time.
My girl self and I read in quiet companionship, the both of us focused on looking for loopholes and traps. We could find none, but that didn’t stop us from trying.
Hey, I said to my other self.
What’s up? she asked.
We’re going to need a name if we’re to sign this thing.
You know I’m sticking with the one I gave us as a kid: Amelia, she replied.
Yeah but I’m wondering what to do about the ‘official’ name we have to sign with.
Since we’re going to be looking like an Amelia soon enough, we can just use that for now?
What about Emily? I said.
I think it suits you, she said cheekily.
I went quiet, taken aback. She quickly picked up on my melancholy. Oh, to hell with hiding these feelings.
You really think so? I asked hesitantly, all thoughts of the contract gone from my mind.
I could feel her eyes widen in understanding. Yes, she said firmly, I really really do.
Fuck, I said. I, I think I’d like to be Emily, if that’s okay with you, Amelia?
She smiled broadly inside our head. Of course it’s okay with me, Emily.
Thank you, I said.
Then I forced myself to focus on the contract that we would be signing shortly.
It was kind of funny, since we first read through the contract, neither of us had doubted for a moment that we’d be signing this thing eventually. The only questions we had were about edge cases, loopholes, and any other signs that we might be being manipulated. Angela answered all our questions with a firm matter-of-factness.
Finally, after maybe an hour all told of reading through the scroll and deliberating, we finally nodded and turned back to Angela.
“We’ll sign,” we said as one.
“Excellent,” she replied with a satisfied smile. A quill appeared in her hand with a flash of fire, and she leaned forward over the desk, offering it to us.
[ - content warning: blood - ]
“You’ll need to sign one of your names in your blood, poke a finger with the quill and it will draw in all the blood it needs.”
We did as she asked, hissing at the jolt of pain as we stabbed our ring finger. The tip of the quill filled with bright red blood in no time at all, and then it was time for us to sign.
Amelia took control, and wrote her name in big, looping cursive letters. No last name, just ‘Amelia’. The quill scratched deeply into the thick parchment, the blood seeming to dry the moment it left the nib.
[ - end content warning - ]
In seconds, it was done. And the moment Amelia’s hand lifted from the scroll, a bright flash of light came from it. When we could see again, a strange symbol inside of a circle had been burned into the parchment beside our name.
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