An epic-length, romance/transformation novel about a mighty female-demon, who forces a young man to give up his manhood for the power only a 'female-body' can wield.

Alone and scared, Sylvine must come to grips with his feminine side, for the joy he found in womanhood can not be suppressed. However, because of his contempt for Lady Tania, who granted him his womanhood, he's placed a wall of mannnish pride before him, and refuses to succumb to the temptations of his hidden female-self.

That is, until he meets a girl named Illiana.

Illiana
Chapter 1 — The Girl in the Tower
By Kayla Lavander

There's an important Prologue before this first chapter.

Why was he keeping me alive?

It was a question I had asked myself over and over, all the while, peering out the window of my tall, stone castle-tower. Will he visit me again? Tonight? I was in desperation for another thought, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not stop thinking about him.

I may have lived in the Palace of Misharia, but royalty, I was not–just a mere a fifteen year old handmaiden, serving the Princess Sercana. It was a rather high position, I suppose, considering my kin were always so quick to brag about their daughter, who tended the princess herself.

At four years above my own age, Sercana was considerably older than me, and still unwed at the age of nineteen–a rarity for Misharian Royalty. She was known for her obsession with all things beautiful–which in her own words, was the reason she plucked me from my meager home out in the village to tend to her. My violet eyes held her in thrall, or so she said. But I suspect her admiration in me, lay in much more than that.

Our princess was fickle that way.

Her behavior had been the subject of many conversations between the various hand maidens that tended her. Mayhap her obsession with pretty girls was due to her own lack of physical beauty. Or perhaps her interest lay something more that I really did not wish to imagine. Luckily though, I was not her favorite. That curse lay upon the narrow shoulders of poor Crystia–a long-legged beauty, five years above my own age, with raven tresses falling down to her shoulders.

To be honest, I could not complain. Nobody could really. None of the handmaidens were actually 'forced' to stay here against their will. In my two years of servitude, I’d witnessed several handmaidens quit and return to their poor village lives, unable to put up with Sercana’s queer behavior. The king and queen would scold their daughter whenever she lost another girl; it was quite an amusing sight to behold.

Four towers flanked the main palace–towers in which we handmaidens lived. There were six of us in total, two girls in each of the three towers–the fourth used for storage. My neighbor just happened to be Marianna, one of the newer handmaidens. At only thirteen years of age, she was the youngest of us all.

A gorgeous night sky lay outside my tower, beautiful shades of midnight-blue sprinkled with specs of white which seemed to flicker and fade with each passing second. I have been thinking about him too much lately, I concluded, shifting my eyes downwards, gazing at the city beneath me. The time grated by with all the speed of an encumbered turtle as I stared at the stone and wooden rooftops of the town below–a little something I would do every night while I awaited his visit.

Narrowing my eyes, I made out what appeared to be small clusters of people huddled about, far off into the horizon, and all carrying torches. They must have been performing a night burial, for they were gathered in the graveyard–another night burial… another woman dead. Or perhaps, this time, the victim was a young peasant girl.

The women of my city, Misharia, were all dying of some mysterious illness. Or so our healers have said. I suppose I could not blame our clerics for their ignorance. These women were always found dead, each appearing as if they had been drained of something. When discovered, their bodies were pale and blue, their skin barely clinging to the bones underneath. It seemed as if the life was sucked right out of them–a strange disease indeed... or so they thought.

I knew the truth, however. It was only I, who harbored the secret of this illness, which was no illness at all, but a worse kind of curse. Yes, I knew full well what went on, yet I could not tell a soul because... I was entrapped within his spell.

Our fair city Misharia was cursed with an Incubus, a horrid type of demon, a form of vampire that did not survive through the drinking of blood. No, this entity could only live by draining the life-force from his victims during the height of sexual ecstasy. All this, he had confessed to me himself. But even with this horrid knowledge, I still eagerly awaited his monthly visits. Eagerly... if only because of the spell he placed upon me.

Why was he keeping me alive? The question scorched my mind, and if I was guilty of repeating it over and over again, it was only because, it was a very valid question. For nine months, this demon has sought me out when all of the other women he slept with were dead within three days. What made me so special? Why did I still live, while the others perished? Whatever the reason, I was determined to get an answer with his next visit... whenever that would be.

It appears, he will not visit me this tonight. I concluded in disappointment.

A soft breeze blew through the window, causing my black, silk nightgown to flutter slightly, tickling the thighs of my legs. The silk smooth brushed against my skin, and the breeze gave me a swift reminder of how chilly the world outside the palace was.

He favored me in black. He felt it complimented my red hair and violet eyes.

Amusing how everybody seemed to have an obsession with this extraordinary birth defect of mine–perhaps because it was a rarity here in Misheria. I’d yet to see another girl, or man for that matter with eyes the color of mine–a soft violet, the color of blue gone wrong. Where I received these eyes from, I have not the slightest. There were many deformities in this world, this I guess, was just one of them... a rather lovely deformity.

To say that I did not feel special for it, would be a complete lie.

I closed the wooden shutters nailed neatly along the thin stone slabs outside of the window before heading to bed. The silence was terribly boring, and the funeral taking place over the horizon began to depress me.

Boredom, I could withstand. Depression, I could withstand. Put the two together, and I yield.

So I grew weary of waiting, and soon found myself drifting to sleep, dreaming of that omnipotent creature as I have for the past nine months. In reality, I only had him one day out of an entire month. At least, the other twenty nine days I could feel his touch in my dreams. Yes, his spell was that powerful; It even affected me as I slept.

"Illiana... Illiana..." His gentle calling was soft as the pillow beneath my head.

Illiana was not my real name, but a cognomen he endowed upon me for his own convenience. ‘Such a beautiful name, for such a beautiful girl,’ he would tell me. And I loved it, even more than my real name.

My body responded to the sound of my name upon his lips, and I sat up, turning towards the window–his favorite entrance.

And there he stood.

In all of my fifteen years of life, I’ll tell say now, Sylvine was most beautiful man I'd ever laid eyes upon. It seemed as if he actually went into the depths of my mind, and saw what I pictured to be the perfect man, then molded himself into that image. This was actually one of the ways the Incubi and Succubi would seduce their victims. But he swore that what I saw, was his real form.

Not that I believed him.

He had a good stature, standing at an even six feet in height. His gorgeous facial features told a tale of someone very young, right about twenty or so. Rich black hair flowed a bit past his neck, lying over a pair of beautiful eyes, green as the Jade sea of Edon. I made a habit of brushing that hair from in front of his face whenever I could.

Sylvine was not as old as he appeared. He confessed this to me once, and I loved him for his honesty. He had the look of twenty, but he claimed to share my own age of fifteen. Many times I begged to see his true, younger self, but he could not bring himself to show me. Surely, this just left more questions burning in my mind.

If he was this 'beautiful' at twenty, I could only imagine how his adolescent body would have appeared.

Secrets, he had so many secrets, and I was in dire desperation to unlock them all.

"Sylvine!" I called out his name in excitement, making sure to keep my voice low, as to not wake any of the other hand maidens up. Although they lie in adjacent rooms, this tower was known to carry echoes great distances. Such was proven when Takaya, a former handmaiden indulged in a midnight rendezvous with one of the captains guards a bit over a year ago. Poor little thing, she could not bear the teases and taunts, that erupted soon after. The girl quit a week following the event.

The matter did not seem to upset the guard any though.

Sylvine stepped out of the shadows where I could see him. The window shutters appeared to be undisturbed, and I wondered what manner of spell he used to invade my quarters this time. His dress consisted of a long, black hooded cloak, a white, silk tunic, and short, black breeches.

"Sylvine..." I whispered his name again, and he made his way over to my bed.

As far as I could tell, his footsteps were as hard as any mans, yet they mysteriously made no sound as his hard, black heels seemingly clashed against my marble floor, my heart beating with every step of his. He took a seat on my bed, and I closed my eyes, leaning into his chest in sweet serenity. I could feel his slender, long-nailed fingers running through my course hair.

"Hello, my violet-eyed mistress." His voice was soothing as the hands that stroked my hair. Although gentle, his deep, contrasted his actual physical appearance.

Talking to him would be an annoyance at times; his hair always hung in his face, making it hard to look at him. Mayhap a habit from his childhood, or perhaps a way of hiding himself from the cursed world he lived in.

Ironic how a powerful being would feel the need for such a security blanket.

He was very quiet, very secretive, and I could see in his eyes, that events from the past tortured him. he was tortured by past events.

However, I was here for him, if only his tortured soul would open itself up to me, allow me be his security blanket. I did care for him so.

I removed my head from upon his chest and raised my hand, gently brushing the stray hairs that hung in front of his face. He was a bit jaded at times, but he always smiled whenever I played with his hair. I grabbed one of his rich black tresses and twirled it around my smallest finger, before pulling it out into one strait lock which hung beautifully from the back of his ear. He then flashed one of those very rare smiles which gave his face a beauty that almost made me jealous. I then proceeded to stare intently into those green pools of his.

What I was about to ask him was extremely important to me, and I needed to emphasize this.

"Sylvine," I repeated, "for nine months, you have come up here while I have slept, and ravished me in ways I thought not possible. Yet I know nothing about you. I would like to know your past. I wish to know how you became what you are. I... I want to know about your first love... your first heartbreak, what your mother was like. Your sisters or brothers, anything Sylvine. I just want to know who you are." I could not help but stutter nervously in my speech as he stared into my eyes. I hated when this happened to me. "I... I wish to be more than just your mistress," I finally sighed out.Flushing, I cast my eyes downwards, breaking his gaze in embarrassment.

Sylvine removed his hands from my hair. "A fair question I suppose." Those were the words that escaped his lips, yet his frowning face said something different. He examined my pleading face for several moments and said, "Hmm, you are too young to get into details with. Lets for now, just say a Succubus found me worthy enough to join her race."

What an insult! I thought. Honestly, of all the people in Quashia, this man was the last person with the rights to call me a child. "Oh...," I responded solemnly. It was all I could do to show my anger. I was too young to hear a kind of story, yet old enough for him to come up here every month and...

His fingers slowly traced the back of my neck, interrupting my thoughts with much effect. But alas, I just sat there, unmoving, like a cold chunk of ice. He might as well have been caressing a rock.

"I suppose I should take leave, if you choose to behave this way," he said sternly. I felt his hands leave my neck as he began to stand.

"No wait! I am sorry!" I responded, falling for his little mind game. Surely, he would not have really left. However, I was not willing to take the chance. My loin's ached, and I didn’t know how far off it would be before his next visit.

I decided to suppress my thoughts and remain silent for the rest of the night.

Without saying another word, I turned my back towards him, and lifted my hair above my neck, revealing the tie-strings in the back of that black, silk nightgown he adored me in.

Although I could not see his face with my back turned, I could feel Sylvine smiling for the second time this night, and I was satisfied with this. He leaned forward and slowly untied my gown, before proceeding to softly kiss the back of my neck. The feel of his lips upon my skin made my body shiver. It was a feeling I had longed for since his last visit.

I knew this was wrong... This man was a murderer, a demon; my heart hated every minute of it, yet my body loved every second of it.

As much as I loved the sensation of his lips against my skin, I could not help but feel bothered that he could dismiss my earlier questions so easily. Did he not understand how I felt? I loved him and wanted to be closer to his heart. Yes, I loved him, if only because of the spell he placed a hold of me. I had to know... had to know his past.

"Wait..." I said in a timid voice, "one more question before we go further this night." I turned around to face him. "Please...."

"WHAT???" Sylvine roared in annoyance, revealing two very sharp fangs. Incubi were not vampires, but descended from their race, and it showed. Those fangs were more of an affront than a threat. They spread no undead vampire's disease and were nothing more than an elongation of his cavities which extended whenever he got excited. "You are beginning to try my patience!"

I clenched my eyes and reared back. This was the side of Sylvine that I feared, but I cared not. This man had come up to my room for the past nine months, and completely destroyed my maidenhood. I was determined to find out at least something this night.

I deserved that much.

"I-I just wanted to ask... Why have you kept me alive for so long?" I took a deep breath to regain my composure. "Why have you not drained me to deathlike the girls?"

The Incubus stood strait up, and looked down upon me before sighing. To my annoyance, his hair fell over his beautiful face.

Goddess knows how much that irritated me.

"Illiana," he started, "I gave you a name. Do you know what it means when one of my kind bestows a name upon a mortal?"

"What? Sylvine?" I asked confused. "What does it mean?" Never did I even give it a thought, or even care. It was a beautiful name, and I was honored to be referred as such.

"If you do not know, and of course you should not, I’ll not burden you with such details. Let me begin by saying this," he continued. "You know what I am, and you know what I do, yet, you still wait for me every night, knowing I come but once a month. I–"

"Oh cunning," I said, cutting his speech. "I wait for you only because of this spell you waved over me."

I did not know what it was in my voice that caused him to laugh so suddenly, but whatever the reason, I could not help but feel slightly vexed. "Is there something funny in what I just said?" I asked nasally.

"Ahh, my young violet eyed mistress. I hold no spell over you, nor would I ever want to cast one. Yours is of free will." He paused before smiling. "That is what makes you so special... that, is why I have not drained you."

What?

What did he mean--he holds no spell over me? I could never fall in love with a monster such as him, unless there was some kind of divine intervention tampering with my emotions.

He was lying!

"It can't be..." I began to slowly, edge off the bed, backing up from the Incubus. "You lie!"

"No, Illiana," Sylvine said, taking care to keep his voice calm. "Youare the one who is lying. Lying to yourself. You know how wrong it is to love one such as me, a monster, a murderer, a devil. Yet, you still do," he sneered. "Fooling yourself into thinking I have a spell on you is the only way of relieving your guilty conscience."

His words pained me beyond belief, as if I knew they were true all this time. I did not, could not believe him. My heart felt evil and black. As if trying to guard my ears from his horrid words, I placed my hands over my head and sunk down into the bed "Please, please leave me," I cried.

I glanced upwards, just in time to see Sylvine throw his arms up into the air. To my amazement, his body dissipated into a light grey fog which swirled and ebbed about the room. He then spoke, his voice now a powerful booming echo, that caused the doors to vibrate. The girls would surely hassle me about this in the morning.

"I shall leave as you command, my lady. But you shall accompany me," he boomed.

The thick grey mist which now served as Sylvine's form, swirled all about me, moving in and out of my clothing. It felt as if he was caressing every single part of my body... all at the same time. I worked hard to suppress the tides of passion rising within me. I guess if he was not going to derive pleasure from me tonight one way, he would do it the other. But I was confident my body would not betray my anger, not yet anyway. No, he would get nothing from me this
night.

The grey mist hoisted me into the air, swirling about so thick, I could not see the stone walls around me. I flailed my arms around while kicking my legs. "Let me go!!" I screamed without a care of who heard my business that night.

But alas, it was useless. How does one fight fog? I gave up and settled down, panting, All I could do, was watch, completely helpless, as he carried me out of the window with such ease... as if I was weightless.