I wasn't sure how long I had been flying. Time seemed to blur, and at some point, the sun began to rise, its golden and crimson hues creeping across the horizon like slow-moving fire. But I barely noticed. My scalp burned relentlessly, the sharp, searing pain refusing to subside as the horns on my head continued to grow.
It felt as though molten metal was being poured into my skull. Just when I thought the agony might never end, the growth shifted. The horns straightened and curved into smooth arcs, their presence undeniable now.
They weren't long—just thick enough to look solid and dangerous, with sharp, pointy tips. I think they've finally stopped growing... I reached up hesitantly, brushing my fingers over their surface. They felt cool to the touch, their texture like polished stone. I wish I had a mirror... I thought bitterly. But in this world, mirrors were nonexistent—at least until someone crafted one.
