I have not felt his feverish touch for a long time now. Although I try to banish the thought, I know he is caught in my destructive web. I hear him each night, wandering restlessly through the forest, calling my name. Begging me, pleading and cursing me. I hide out of sight, pining for his touch, but knowing my effect on his now so frail body.
My instincts tell me that I should approach him. Cautiously appear and let him see just a hint of me before retreating again. Make him succumb to desire and follow me. Cultivate his lust like a farmer grows his crops. Play his own feelings against him until he can think of nothing but my body and pleasure.
I curse my flesh and try to organize my own feelings. My body needs his caresses, and I find it hard to resist. How can I know if he really loves me? And how do I know if it is him that I love?
-----
After it became known that I had abandoned all thought of ever returning to my own people, some of the trolls began to treat me kindlier. There was still much harassment, but I began to feel that the coming physical change would have positive sides. Skuld was pleasant as always, but I could also sense that she looked at me with genuine affection and appreciation for leaving my old life behind for her sake.
In troll society, as it was when humans still practiced it, magic was considered a feminine art. Something chaotic, uncontrollable and dangerous, just as the female spirit. Like a river, with equal parts destruction and life. Respected and feared. There were no sorcerers, only sorceresses. As a female, Skuld had some knowledge of the magics of her people. She understood what was necessary and made all the arrangements for my upcoming change. The secrets were kept by a few of the oldest troll hags, but all girls and women had to some degree been familiarized with the basics. Everything depended upon different herbs and ingredients meant to stimulate the forces dwelling in all things surrounding us. She filled me in only on what I needed to know, but nothing more.
I would be given a brew to prepare my soul for the dying of my body and release unto a new vessel. As a stroke of irony, there was only one person who knew how to make such a drink. She was Burr's own mother, but Skuld assured me that everyone who was allowed intimate knowledge of troll magic held their secrets and integrity higher than anything else. To misuse the magic would mean to rebel against the forces of nature themselves. I had a hard time trusting her words. I was going to die and was more than uneasy at leaving my faith within Burr's sphere of influence.
When the chosen night came, Skuld led me from our home and through a series of corridors I was unfamiliar with. Through every intersection and crossing, I could see other trolls moving in the same direction. There were few big happenings in my new society. Clearly, this was something everybody wanted to witness. The birthing of a new prince.
The air slowly became colder and less damp. A slight tang of green accompanied the steady breeze, and I realized that we were on our way to the outside. My heart rejoiced as I saw a huge stone door, slowly swinging aside as we approached. Finally, after so many weeks in darkness, I was allowed to breathe fresh air once more. A pang of panic seized me as I remembered that this was only happening so I could become a troll. Breathing fresh air did not matter anymore. My life on the surface was over. But I tried to relish the moment.