It was terribly difficult trying to get used to coordinating my new body, I felt as if my arms and legs were nothing more than soft decorative sticks that served no purpose at all.

Only a few days had passed since my encounter with that creature, the one I later learned people referred to by the title of the "Mountain King." A title I should have held... if only I could have fought under better conditions.

But if it hadn’t been for those people passing by, I admit I would have ended up being devoured. And while I am undoubtedly grateful to be alive for one more day, I’d much prefer it to be in my old body. Instead, I was now somehow trapped in the body of a human baby, weak and soft, adopted by a human family that found me after I transformed.

I had lived with them for a very short time, though I learned quite a bit during that period. Above all, I discovered something important: I hadn’t fallen into just any human family… but into a noble one. They were Barons, or at least that’s what I had heard: the Valcrests.

They lived in an enormous mansion, or perhaps it only seemed that way to me due to my small size, but it certainly had more rooms than I could count. There were servants everywhere, each competing to see who could fawn over me more or claim that I was “precious,” “charming,” “a blessing,” or the most humiliating version of all: “a very smart baby for his age.”

The desperation to make them understand that I wasn’t a human baby consumed me from within. Finally, I had the chance to communicate with other intelligent beings. But of course, try explaining something to someone when your vocal cords only produce gurgles and sounds that others find hilarious.

"Oh, are you saying something, little one?" they would say to me.

Yes, thank you, I’m trying to tell you th—STOP TICKLING MY FEET!!

But all that came out of my mouth was:

"Aaa… brrr… gah."

Humiliating.

"That’s enough, everyone back to work."

The servants ran off to resume their tasks. "Forgive us, Edrin," they said. Everyone seemed to fear or respect this Edrin; as for me, the scars on his face just gave me the chills.

Communication had been a resounding failure.

Despite everything, I wasn't going to deny it: that mansion was a thousand times better than the shelter of stone and moss I had called home on the mountainside. Here, I had food at all hours, clean water that didn't leak through a hole in the ceiling, soft clothes that didn't scratch my now-sensitive skin, and a roof that never threatened to collapse with the first storm that decided to pass by. It was a level of comfort I had never been used to, but comfort did not compensate for the lack of freedom. Despite all of it, I missed running through the mountain among the trees and feeling the wind moving around me.

I missed the sensation of my claws sinking into the earth or the sound of my powerful roar, which had been replaced by a weak and "tender" burp that— "BLURP!" Ugh... I don't even know why I try. Damn it, I missed being independent.

The routine. That was what I hated most. An endless cycle of diapers, mushy food, mandatory naps, and, worse still, the constant attempts at forced socialization. This was torture. I wasn't built to live like this. I had gone from being the apex predator of my territory, well, "almost" the apex predator, to a creature whose greatest concern was whether I had too much gas inside from burping so much while trying to roar. Sometimes I tried to crawl toward the windows to see the mountain where I had grown up, imagining myself running through it again. Only to be caught in a matter of seconds. Every time I complained or got frustrated, they would pick me up, rock me gently, and, to my misfortune, I would end up falling asleep.

It was a trap. A warm, comfortable trap, filled with soft lullabies...

"Oh, Dorien, my love, you're restless. You must be sleepy."

And of course… in the end, I would fall asleep. It’s simply impossible to fight against it. What kind of technique do human mothers use to put children to sleep? I need to learn it someday.

My greatest weakness in this body was... it was... sleep. You surrendered to it without even realizing... zzz.....

Over time, I learned more about my new family.

My human mother was named Lyanna, though everyone called her Lya or Lady Valcrest. She was a warm and energetic woman, with rough hands and a voice that too often used that sweet, ridiculous tone reserved exclusively for babies. Despite that, she was kind. Patient. Even when I glared at her with pure frustration.

Her presence was constant, always gentle. Whenever she looked at me, she did so with a warmth and happiness I still don’t quite understand; perhaps she is plotting something. To her, I was a "gift," or so the servants went around saying.

Then there was my human father, Alister Valcrest, or Lord Valcrest.

The first time I saw him, I thought he might be half-statue. Serious. Cold. Imposing. I’m not even sure I’ve seen him smile a single day since they found me, though it’s impossible to see his mouth anyway with that large mustache covering it. He was distant with everyone, yet all the servants treated him with respect and admiration.

Curiously, when we were alone, he would try to approach me in clumsy ways: offering me carved wooden toys, staring at me with cold intensity, or simply sitting in front of me as if he were stalking prey. I watched him with a great deal of distrust and fear; after all, he was the one who had shot the "Mountain King," that powerful creature, without hesitation. There is no doubt that Alister is an enemy I should be extremely careful with....

He radiated such absolute gravity that my first reaction was… to freeze. He never showed disappointment, joy, or any emotion when I pulled away from him. Though he always tried again after a few days.

One thing that caught my attention was my room. From the first day, it was already ready: furniture, handmade toys, clothes, a crib, decorations… That indicated planning, yet they had brought me straight to their home the moment they found me.... Furthermore, my name was written on the door.

Dorien.

That was the name they had chosen for me. It wasn't the best name, but since I never thought I'd have one, I suppose it will do. I was now Dorien.

Occasionally, while being fed, I could hear the mansion’s staff gossiping and whispering, thinking no one could understand them.

Big mistake, friends; you have a little spy here understanding every word.

They were my primary source of information within these walls. Thanks to them, I discovered that the Valcrests had an older daughter, eleven years old, who was studying far away. She hadn’t visited once since the Valcrests adopted me, in fact, I didn't even know if she was aware of my existence. And if that room wasn’t hers… then...

For the moment, I haven't been able to find out more. Not because I didn't want to, but because every attempt to explore the mansion ended with someone picking me up like a stray cat.

As the days passed, my annoyance grew until it became a roar inside me. My human body was clumsy. My muscles were soft and immature. My center of gravity had shifted entirely, forcing me to learn how to balance all over again. Crawling was uncomfortable, moving on all fours was worse, and standing on two feet was nearly impossible without falling like a sack of potatoes.

However… I could still feel that strength and speed that had accompanied me for so many months inside me, only it was... completely overshadowed by my lack of mobility. I had to regain my dragon form, I didn't know how many more days or diaper changes I could endure before going insane.

My first idea was to turn to human knowledge. Books. Ancient texts. Some clue in their library. But of course… to get to the library, I first had to be able to walk. Then, open doors. Then, go down stairs without dying in the process. And I was barely able to crawl without leaving a trail of drool.

Still, I tried. More than once I escaped the crib... ahh... the crib, my cell. To the world, it was a charming nest of carved wood with soft sheets and shiny star decorations. To me, it was the barrier of a minimum-security prison that, ironically, was unbreakable for this ridiculous body. I tried brute force, stealthy climbing, even the strategy of crying inconsolably, hoping Lyanna would leave me on the floor for just a second. Nothing. Finally, I managed to pile some toys inside the crib, and after an enormous effort, I managed to climb over and fall onto a blanket.

"Ah.. Ah..." I panted. Fine, first step complete... now for... everything else....

I headed toward the library, but I didn't make it more than a few crawls before being caught again. The first time, a maid intercepted me mid-hallway. The second, Lya found me just as I had finally managed, after several minutes, to descend the first step of the stairs. The third time, I tripped on a rug and was left lying face down like a flipped beetle. I’m not particularly proud of that one, because in the middle of the great effort I made to flip back over, I ended up...

Please, tell me that didn't just happen.

In the end, between my cries and the terrible smell, it was Lya who found me in such a humiliating state. For the rest of the day, I remained in silence, dying of shame. Even so, I kept trying… only to be captured every single time without exception.

"Oh, Dorien, what are you doing so far from your crib?" Lya would say as she lifted me.

You know, the usual. Exploring. Learning. Figuring out how the hell to get my old body back, I’d appreciate your help, you know.

But all she heard was a tender, high-pitched "Baaa."

In my desperation, a brilliant idea came to me. Well, it seemed brilliant at first. I tried to recreate my birth. Literally.

I gathered blankets, pillows, and cushions. I managed to drag them into a corner of the crib and curled up inside, trying to remember the sensation of the broken shell: the enveloping, dense heat, the humidity, the silence. Maybe, just maybe, if I wrapped myself in something like an egg, I could be reborn as a dragon. Reclaim my original form.

I curled up, closed my eyes, and tried to feel the constant heat building up around me, imagining my claws and wings growing back. At first, nothing happened. After several minutes, absolutely nothing continued to happen.

I only sweated. When they found me in there, panting and wrapped up like a freshly baked loaf of bread, they pulled me out of my “egg” with expressions of horror.

"Lady Valcrest! The baby was buried under all these blankets!"

Please, just five more minutes... I think I almost have it.

It was clear I wasn't going to get anywhere this way if I couldn't trigger the change myself or access books. So, I had to think for myself and analyze my memories; my past knowledge was my only guide. Something must have triggered it. What happened right before my transformation?

I remembered that moment with great anguish: the fight with that being, the "Mountain King," the desperate flight, the failed attempt at soaring, the violent and uncontrolled descent down the mountainside, and finally, that experience so close... to the end.

And then… BOOM! The change. No wounds. No blood. No pain. A few seconds and I was already human. My flesh had contracted, my claws and snout retracted, and my wings and tail vanished.

Perhaps that was the key. Perhaps my body needed to feel danger again. Perhaps I had to make it remember what I truly am. The logic was shaky, but it was the only clue I had. Between that and trying the egg thing again, I was willing to risk the former.

So, I decided to do the only thing I thought might work: Act like a dragon. Remind my body of what I once was. Force it to wake up.