The air in the workshop grew heavy as Evelyn prepared her tools. A row of silver needles, threaded with shimmering, translucent silk, lay neatly on a velvet cloth. Alaric sat shirtless, his muscles tensed. Every time the Chimera heart beat, a ripple of purple energy distorted the air around his skin.
"This will not be like the first time," Evelyn whispered, pouring a thick, black oil onto her hands. "The first time was about survival. This... this is about synchronization."
"Just do it," Alaric growled, though his eyes betrayed his fear.
As Evelyn pressed her oil-slicked fingers against the glowing stitches, Alaric's world suddenly tilted. The walls of the workshop vanished. He wasn't in a manor anymore; he was standing in a sea of fire and blood.
In his mind, he saw through the eyes of the Chimera.
He felt the roar in his throat, the weight of massive wings, and a primal, suffocating rage. But there was something else—a memory of a cold, white laboratory and a voice that sounded hauntingly like Evelyn's, but younger, more desperate.
"Subject 0-4 is reacting well to the soul-graft," the voice echoed.
Back in reality, Alaric's body arched in pain. A pair of dark, leathery wing-buds began to tear through the skin of his shoulder blades, just like the ones shown on your book cover.
"Stop!" Alaric gasped, his voice vibrating with the power of the beast. "What did you do to that creature before you killed it? I saw... I saw a laboratory!"
Evelyn's hand paused for a fraction of a second, her expression turning uncharacteristically grim. "The past is a corpse, Alaric. Don't dig it up if you aren't prepared for the smell."
She drove a needle deep into his shoulder, anchoring the new muscle fibers to his skeleton. Alaric roared, but the sound was muffled by a sudden surge of power. The pain was being replaced by an intoxicating strength. He could feel the wings expanding, heavy and powerful, ready to carry the weight of a fallen angel.
"You didn't just find this heart, did you?" Alaric asked, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the transformation stabilized. "You made it."
Evelyn stood back, admiring her handiwork. The wings on Alaric's back were now fully formed, dark and majestic. "I am a taxidermist, Alaric. I put things together. Whether God made the pieces or I did... does it really matter now that you can fly?"
Outside, the wind howled, and for the first time, Alaric didn't feel like a victim. He felt like a weapon.