A hot wave of power surged through Xena’s veins and with it memories flooded her brain. War and blood and killing and the cold satisfaction of watching her target die. She hadn’t even realized her grip on the man’s neck had tightened. She watched with a blank curiosity as his life flowed out of him. She watched it seep from his skin and pour from his gaping mouth it looked like he was surrounded by pale blue stars that shimmered and moved in a similar fashion to water but it wasn’t wet. She might as well have been seeing space flowing down to pool at her feet and crawl slowly up her legs and body until his life was hers. She almost laughed, the blue was in such contrast to the man. His fat unkempt body looked out of place against the beauty of the shimmering blue liquid. With a heavy sigh she stepped back. “That was a mistake,” she whispered to herself.
During the time she was drowning in memories she hadn’t noticed her transformation. Her body was taller and where her soft fat had been there was only a night black skin stuck to bone. Her sweater and jeans were replaced by a wet looking blood red cloak that lightly flowed around her body. She felt something else new too. It was light and soft and powerful. She looked over her shoulder and saw wings. They were as black as night, maybe twelve feet long across with feathers that looked too long to function. The core of the feathers were an almost blinding white and the feathers were either tipped or edged with a dark iridescent purple. She noticed herself for a long time, she caught her reflection and was disappointed to find a bald head. Her eyes glowed the same blood red as her cloak and the wet gleam of blood ran from her eye sockets. If she had been naked she supposed the lines or blood would trail her body but for now it stopped at her shin and seemed to just vanish.