The screams cut off the moment the latch of the heavy wooden door clicked shut.

  Out before her was a dim hallway lit by the occasional floating orblet of light. Numbered

  doors lined the grey stone walls. The cool moist air licked at her bare skin. The gentle

  slap of her bare feet against the cold flagstones worn smooth with the passing of time

  echoed ominously. She shifted. Pulling her wings, tail, and horns inward. Pulsing tattoos

  retreated. Ears rounded. Her right eye turning from inky black to milky white. Once at

  the opening of the hallway, she stopped. Eyes locked with an Anorian man who seemed

  stunned to see her. Right, I am still naked.

  "Thou might wish to check door number fourteen. A ritual did not fare well there."

  "Huh?" asked the man intelligently. Well kid really. He couldn't have been out of

  his teens yet.

  "Door fourteen," she repeated.

  "Fourteen?" he asked. Eyes trying so very hard to take in her full visage.

  "Yes. Do hurry."

  "Oh, ok." He got up from his seat, hugging the wall as he passed her as if

  bumping her would destroy a priceless artifact.

  "Doth these robes belong to thee? May I taketh them. I find myself quite cold."

  "Uh. Yeah. Please. And. Uh, s-stay here ok? Please?"

  She gave him a warm smile and a bow. He bolted down the hallway occasionally

  looking back over his shoulder. She didn't wait. Snatching the robe from its hook and

  pausing only as she passed a small mirror. No wonder the boy had seemed so stunned.

  Her human form looked nothing like an Anorian. She forced her face to widen,

  becoming rounder. The color in her left iris darkened to a deep brown, almost black.

  She pushed the upper area of her eyelids out until they made an attractive epicanthic

  fold. Made them more round. More elegant. Not perfect. She grit her teeth. Perfection

  would have to come later. Actually, this was Anoria after all, so... She took just another

  moment to push out two small cone shaped horns that protruded from her temples.

  Horns are so pretty. A slight darkening of the skin and she had to go. The only other

  adjustment she could afford was a slight boost in height to accommodate the robes.

  The guise of an Oni-Kai may not have been the best decision. Of the four mortals

  she had come into contact with, all of them had been human. It was possible this was a

  human only building. It was possible that Oni-Kai were a lower class of citizens. Shit, it

  was possible Oni-Kai had gone extinct in the unknown amount of years she had spent

  imprisoned. That said, humans breed like rats and spread like wildfire, so seeing no

  humans would have been far more out of the ordinary. Walking tall and with purpose,

  though with her ever present limp, she passed several humans who didn't give her so

  much as a second glance. Maybe humans were the lower class now?

  She found her way through halls and massive chambers mostly by following the

  flow of people and the increasing natural light. Ah, there are Oni-Kai here. She adjusted

  the angle of her horns to be more anatomically correct. Then she was in the courtyard.

  Vibrant golden sunlight raining down like a flood of glory on her skin. Its warmth a

  reassuring melody that the mortal realm had not changed nor had it been a distant

  dream. The air sweet and thick with blossoming floral scents she could only vaguely

  recall. The blue sky with its fluffy white clouds, the hard packed earth beneath her bare

  feet, the greenery of grass, clover, and trees. It was ecstacy. It was life. It was freedom.

  Forced to follow the crowd and scarcely noticing, she exited the courtyard via

  massive iron gates. Their thunderous clang breaking her out of her reaveraly. The

  building she had just walked out of was massive. Built like a palace with three main

  towers interconnected by the lower floor. Their great white walls gleaming in the light of

  day. Their elegant red colored and sweeping pagoda roofs capping the several story tall

  structures. The whole complex encased by a large square wall painted white with a red

  roof and thoroughly decorated with gold and jade reliefs of arcane symbols, great

  beasts, and powerful phrases of great importance to those who could read them.

  It was the sound that struck her more than anything however. Yes, there had

  been noise in the summoning chamber, but she had been preoccupied by the situation.

  Now she stood in the center of a bustling street filled with the to and fro movements of a

  hundred or more mortals. A great cacophony of talking, laughing, the friction of fabric on

  fabric, and the slap of footwear on pavers. How long had it been since she last heard

  these mundane things? How long had the steady dripping of water been the only sound

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  past her own breathing? So much sound. So much noise. Not just people, but water.

  Falling water. Now that she noticed it she could hardly hear anything over the

  thundering roar of fathomless amounts of water crashing into the depth of yet more

  liquid.

  Her fingers gripped the railing at the far end of the street. She pulled herself up

  onto the ledge not far from where an overly intimate couple stood holding each other

  and speaking in quiet flowery prose. To her right, the street swooped out wide like a

  massive arm carrying a great load that was the city below. To her left, water fell from a

  great multitude of pools to plummet to the populated lower terrace, creating a roiling

  mist that engulfed the ramshackle buildings at the bottom of the fall. Shacks built on top

  of shacks at haphazard angles that jutted out over the water, sprawled out around the

  base of the falls. The buildings became larger and better built the farther out she looked

  until they became a grid of city blocks, canals, streets, and bridges. Towers rose

  majestically into the air. Mortal made ponds hosted floating markets. Everywhere there

  was greenery and trees, some in full bloom with pedals of red or white or pink.

  On the edges lay large terraces filled with perfect mid sized wooden homes

  surrounded with perfect fences and filled with the perfect assortment of trees and

  shrubs. The terrace she was on consisted primarily of large and ostentatious buildings.

  Many painted in red and white, but a few were built of dark or light stone and had the

  ominous aura of temples. Following the cascading water upward to the topmost terrace

  produced a building that was both bridge and palace with white washed stone, painted

  red walls, and sweeping dark colored roofs. Massive and commanding was the

  mansion, dwarfing its neighbours that surrounded it, all of which vibrantly displaying

  themselves as the upper class to the city they looked down upon.

  “Thou!” she said pointing at a random mortal. “What is the name of thine city?”

  The man stared up at her with mouth agape and eyes wide. “Ah, ah,” he snapped

  into a deep bow, causing the others around him to bow as well before moving past.

  Odd. I do not recall these mortals being this polite.

  “The city is Lianzhen, my lady.”

  My lady? Oh I could get used to this, she waved her hand, dismissing the mortal.

  “That shall be all, thank you.”

  He bowed twice more before hurrying away. She turned to the cascading waters.

  “Lianzhen. Lian, zhen. Cascade City.” She let out a disappointed sigh. “Zero

  points for creativity.”

  She jumped down from the ledge and let the flow of bodies, like water, take her

  down hill. Most traveled in finery of silks and finely woven cottons. Some in far less

  extravagant clothing, roughspun hemp and linen. Men and women's kimonos both plain

  and printed, elegant cheongsam worn by elegant and noble looking ladies, changshan

  both common and sophisticated, and the long dark coats of civil servants. Once in the

  lower tier, much of the finery diminished in quality or sometimes altogether. Fancy

  cheongsam giving way to simple shirts and skirts. Changshan being replaced with basic

  tunics. Soldiers both male and female, more so female oddly enough, marched in linen

  garments more closely resembling gambesons though still with the Anorian flair that

  saturated everything. They wore conical steel helmets and carried odd looking

  shortspears with offset spearheads and vaguely familiar contraptions at their base. At

  some point the machete must have replaced the sword. Gone was the fancy armor and

  curved blades she had expected to see.

  An Oni-Sen smith worked at an anvil. His red tinted skin dripping with sweat from

  the heat of the furnace and his long elegant horns pointing toward the overhead beams

  of his open air smithy. Perhaps I should mimic that race. Such attractive horns. Long

  and thin, gently curved and white though a bit off balancing. A kitsune woman was

  selling vegetables along the street. Her human face in juxtaposition to the furry tail and

  high fox-like ears. Pretty golden irises and hair the color of harvested wheat. Humans

  everywhere as always. The many shapes and sizes and colors. So boring. The Oni-Kai,

  much like their Oni-Sen cousins, but with much smaller horns, less pointed ears, and

  more human colorations. She altered her body as she observed. Reducing her breast

  size slightly to hit the happy medium between the too small and the too big. Narrowed

  her hips. Curved her horns more. Adjusted her cheekbones. It would take time of

  course. Proportions were just as important as individual parts, but perfection demanded

  time in front of a mirror.

  She stopped. Eyes locked onto a particular motral. Their clothing and cargo

  unimportant. What mattered was the ash white hair. The red irises. The black horns that

  swept back along their head, wholly unlike the Oni-Sen. And of course their tail. Long

  and thin with a spade shaped point. Akumajin. So pretty. Or they would have been if

  they weren't a male. She could always switch to an Akumajin. Or maybe that would be

  too obvious.