The Castle of Lions’ corridors were quiet, but Pidge’s room was anything but. Curtains drawn tight, dim glow from a database cast flickering shadows over scattered wires, tools, and untouched snack wrappers. She was curled up on her bunk, knees to her chest, forehead slick with sweat.

Cramps wracked her stomach in waves so sharp she thought she’d double over. Her migraine pulsed behind her eyes like a warning light. But that wasn’t all—her whole body hurt. Her muscles throbbed with a dull, electric ache, joints stiff and hot like they’d been overworked for days. She tried to focus on the ceiling, counting rivets, but her vision blurred.

This wasn’t just a bad period. She knew her cycle—she could predict it to the day, and it had never felt like this. Her nails bit into her palms as another surge of pain crawled down her spine. She let out a strangled groan, biting her lip to keep quiet.

Then came the itching. Around her ears first—an odd tingling under the skin—then at the base of her spine. She reached up shakily and felt the edges of something soft and alien sprouting where her ears had been. Furry tips. Her heart lurched.

“No, no, no…” she muttered, voice cracking. Her breath came fast. The memories of their last mission flooded back—the strange planet, the shadow that lunged at her in the dark, the searing pain of teeth breaking her armor’s seal. She’d brushed it off, too focused on the mission to get it checked.

Now, she was paying for it.

Her body jerked again. She gripped the sheets, knuckles white, as her back arched involuntarily. Her skin burned; her tailbone felt like it was splitting open. A sound somewhere between a gasp and a growl escaped her lips. Ears. Tail. Pain. All of it layered over the migraine that refused to let her think straight.

Pidge curled up tighter, trembling, biting down on the edge of a blanket to keep from crying out. She didn’t want the others to see her like this—sweaty, shaking, half-human, half-something else. She didn’t even know what she was turning into.

On the floor, her comm buzzed softly with another ping from Hunk, probably checking on her for the fifth time. She couldn’t even answer. She was too busy trying not to fall apart as the change took hold.

In the dim glow, her reflection in a cracked monitor flickered—ears pointed and furred, pupils a little sharper, face pale but set. The person staring back at her wasn’t fully her anymore.

And the worst part? This was only the beginning.