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Spark of Life wandered between the kin who gathered below the massive tree she called home, dripping in moss, covered in fireflies and glowing bugs in every which way. It was dusk, and the lighting and gloomy swamp made for perfect atmosphere. She eyed each one, her eyes two glowing fireflies themselves along with the orbs around her horns marks along her body. Nature was her. It was everything she breathed and thought about, even as a captive of the WHISPERS tribe as their healer, she knew she had to help kin when she needed to. Bad or good. No matter what their ailment was.And that brought her to the story of one of the strangest cases she'd ever heard about, passed down from healer to healer as both a legend, and a warning. Nowadays, it was common, and well known. But back in the older times, this was something that was looked at in horror, and healers often tried time and time again to fix what they thought was a disease, and failed.
She dragged the small turtle shell in front of her, and sniffed at the ointment she'd created in it, genuinely checking it for a sick kin she'd just seen earlier that day, and then looked around her. "I bring you a story of the past, a story that my ancestors talked about and passed down through generation and generation. A legend where kin changed, turned into animals, and whose forms morphed and warped. The time before ascension was one of mystery, and fear. It was a time where those who were healers among us were brought the most nightmarish things, and told to fix it. Sometimes, this was able to be done, even if it took months. But some weren't able to be relieved at all. Some were permanent changes, that only time could finally explain itself. Something no medicine could ever affect."
She stirred her little mixture, and took a sprig of berries, mashing it with a hoof before continuing. "These stories were of kin who had begun to change. They became animalistic, taking on traits at first in personality and attitude rather than looks... but then began to talk feverishly of traversing the swamp during night and day, galloping off between the trunks to see, smell, taste, and feel the air, blood, and wet forest leaves. They were often half-mad, or at least seemed to be at the time, by the time they reached their healers. Friends and family begged and pleaded for some sort of mixture, tonic, or bandage that could fix these nightmares, nightmares they were convinced weren't actually happening but that the sick kin stood by steadfastly. It tore families apart. It wrecked friendships. The kin who had been claimed to be ill were not actually ill, however, and so everything that was ever concocted to help ease their mental breakdowns did nothing."
She held up the small turtle shell then with her teeth, showed it to them, and then set it back down again. "This was one of those mixtures. A concoction of powdered tea leaves, and sugar, and then squashed berries mixed with white cream and topped with rothsberry branch bark. Rothsberry is a small shrub that grows in particularly wet, loose soil, and produces a toxic berry that is not edible. But their bark is minty, and relieves the sore throat and calms the mind into sedation. This was the main ingredient into the mixture, and was often given to those feverish kin multiple times. But alas, it was but one of many failures. The particularly angry and resentful kin would pace to and fro while explaining in detail what they saw and felt. They were adamant that what they did and saw in some others was absolutely true, but it only fueled everyone else around them to believe they were truly mad. None prior to them had been able to change at will, and so there was no actual proof that anyone could really change. Until one day, one had become aware enough of themselves to be able to force a change directly in front of all.
"But this only caused a gasp, and a fear began to spread. A fear worse than any plague. They trampled him in terror. Kin young and old would circle those who had claimed to be able to change, and would kill them out of terror that these beast-kin would eventually kill them in their thirst for blood, and a prejudice enveloped the swamp. This lasted for years, until the shapeshifting kin had become too terrified to reveal themselves anymore. Then, slowly over time, the unshapeshifting kin had begun to discover ascension. It was an agonizing process, but eventually over the years, kin discovered that others who could not change, could later, and their forms were warped and changed depending on what they had been gifted with. Eventually, through time, it was determined that shapeshifting was not an evil thing, and something not to fear. No kin had ever died from a shapeshifting kin who had eaten them, unless they had been evil to begin with.
"This brought a much-needed peace of mind over the swamp. It took a long, long time to finally reach where we are," she said, and eyed each one of them almost individually. "But we made it. All stand on equal ground now, and the shapeshifters are still amongst us now, changing their forms into animals and guarding us all from danger, despite what we'd done in the past. It is something to be thankful for, something to take pride in. Never be afraid of who you are, especially now in the age we live in," she smiled warmly. "No matter what you are, no matter where you came from. We're all part of the same world, breathe the same air, and live together."
As the rest of the kin in the swamp nodded amongst themselves and exploded in a burst of small talking and laughter while they shared their own stories to each other about shapeshifters, Spark looked up in the crowd at two kin in the back that no one had noticed. She knew immediately they were changers themselves. She smiled at them from afar, and then went back to mashing the mixture into her turtle shell for the sick kin she'd promised it to.