“I’ve always feared death,” you admit, the words tasting true. “I wish for the ability to swap bodies with anyone I choose.”

 

Zara’s eyebrows shoot up. “Now that is a creative solution to mortality. Deliciously amoral. I like it.”

 

She leans forward, her scent of cinnamon intensifying.

 

“It is done. A touch, a thought, and the shell is yours. So,” she purrs, her gaze intense with curiosity, “who will be your first skin? You’ll need someone… durable, for the learning process.”

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October 9, 2025
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