The pride of pride

Charles adjusted the collar of his slightly worn uniform, the fabric fraying just at the edges. He stood at the edge of the ballroom, holding a glass of non-alcoholic nectar and trying not to draw attention to himself. The Grand Hall shimmered with opulence, floating crystal chandeliers, silver enchantments dancing in the air, violins that played themselves.

He was not supposed to be here. This party was hosted by House Valcoran, one of the wealthiest magical bloodlines in the Empire, and while the invitation had been sent to the top ten students of Arkenhall University, it was no secret that most nobles considered his presence a mistake.

"Well, well," a voice said behind him, sharp like silk hiding a knife. "If it isn't Charles Maynor."

Charles turned around slowly. Elyra Valcoran. Long raven-black hair braided with enchanted sapphires. She was beautiful, yes, but with that practiced perfection that reeked of money. Her friends stood behind her like obedient shadows.

Charles tried to keep his voice calm. “Elyra.”

She smirked. “Did you sew that robe yourself, Charles? Or is that a new line from the 'Charity for Commoners' collection?”

A few nobles snickered.

Charles’s pridefull smile “Mock me all you want.”

“Sure ?” Elyra laughed. “What assurence from simple farmers ? And you live in the university's public dorms, yes? Don’t get defensive, little peasant. I’m merely... fascinated.”

“You know what?” he said, stepping forward, fire flickering in his eyes, “I was waiting for it ! I challenge you.”

The crowd gasped. A noble being challenged by a commoner? Elyra blinked, surprised. Then her smile widened. “How quaint.”

“Formal duel,” he said, heart racing. “Under the laws of Arkenhall.”

“I accept,” she purred. “But don’t cry when your spell fizzles and your pride dies.”

---

They stood in the Duel Circle, the runes around them glowing with blue energy. The crowd formed a wide ring, whispers buzzing like insects.

The duel began with fire. Charles summoned a blaze that spiraled into a spear. Elyra countered with a shield of pure ice that melted instantly into mist, hiding her movements. He pivoted, chanting, and vines erupted beneath her feet. She snapped her fingers and burned them to ash.

The crowd was loving it.

Charles was breathing hard, sweat on his brow. She was fast. But he was clever. And he had nothing to lose.

They both raised their hands at the same time, words of ancient power curling off their tongues.

“Transmutare Forma!”

“Senecta Inversa!”

There was an explosion of light, a wave of silence, and then..

Gasps.

Elyra stumbled back, her bones creaking. Her skin wrinkled, hair turning gray and brittle. Her eyes widened in horror as her body withered into that of an old woman.

But the crowd’s attention turned.

Charles was on his knees, panting, his robe loose on his now narrower shoulders. His hair had lengthened, flowing down his back like spun copper. His chest pushed against the fabric of his tunic, soft, full. His face had softened, lips way fuller, eyes larger, lashes thick and curled. His voice, when he gasped, was unmistakably feminine.

He looked down.

Small hands. Smooth arms.

“No,” he whispered. “No !what ?”

Someone screamed.

Charles quickly disappeared in the crowd.

---

Later this week

The library was quiet. Midnight. A candle flickered beside a stack of spellbooks. Charles sat with his face buried in a tome titled Reversal of Fleshbound Curses.

He had pulled every text he could find on transformation magic. Nothing mentioned a dual-gender spell of this kind. He flipped another page in frustration, his now-long hair falling across his face. He batted it away.

Suddenly, footsteps.

She was there, standing in the shadows between shelves. Not old anymore. Elyra.

“You!” Charles stood up, but his balance faltered. His body moved differently. Centered lower. He cursed under his breath.

Elyra smirked. “You look... ravishing.”

“How are you young again?” he demanded.

“I just had to learn your spell and then reverse it on me, like everyone. I just a genius to do it in such short time.”

Charles’s face twisted in anger. “What the hell did you do to me?!”

“I used a very different spell on you,” she said, leaning on the edge of the table. “One that doesn’t wear off. One that’s... let’s say, bound to the soul.”

“You ! You can’t do that..”

“Oh, but I did. And guess what? You’ll never find it in any library. It's a secret of House Valcoran. You will never learn it.”

“I’ll report this,” Charles hissed.

“You already did,” she smiled. “And I’ve already been expelled. So dramatic, so fair.” She stepped back, her gaze narrowing. “But the damage is done, dear Charles. Or should I say, Charlotte?”

His fists clenched. “I’ll find a way to reverse it.”

She laughed softly. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll try.”

---

A week later, Charles sat in front of the head of House Valcoran, a cold-faced man with silver rings on his fingers. The manor walls towered with enchanted portraits and glittering trophies.

“You request access to the family spell archive,” the old man said.

Charles nodded. “It’s the only way.”

“We cannot grant that to an outsider.”

“But you must understand, I’ve been cursed..”

“You have been... changed. Not cursed. That is an important distinction. And family secrets are not bartered lightly.”

Charles swallowed. “I’ll do anything.”

The old man stared for a long moment. Then, finally, he spoke.

“There is one way. Marry Elyra. In doing so, you would become part of our house. Then... perhaps... the knowledge could be shared.”

Charles stood in anger. “No. Absolutely not. Never !”

“Then we are done here.”

---

He walked away from the manor with the sun setting behind him. The wind tugged at his long hair. His steps were lighter, not by choice.

He wasn't Charles anymore. Not yet Charlotte either.

And if he couldn’t go back... Then he would have to move forward. But not on their terms.