As Tyria reached for the crystal, a sudden pain lanced through her skull. She dropped to her knees, clutching her head and moaning in pain, and as she did so she could feel the teeth in her mouth changing, her canines growing longer, sharper. Now her head felt like it was fit to burst, as... something forced its way out of her skull. Two somethings, in fact, long and sharp... horns. Those were horns. The grew to points and curled back over her head, and then stopped. No sooner had they finished growing than a new pain grew at the base on her spine as something long and thin shot out of her tailbone. She could feel it... gods, she could move it, make it whip back and forth. She collapsed to the ground in shock and could feel her clothing shifting around her as well and then, finally, mercifully, it was over.
Tyria didn't know how long she lay there before finally pulling herself to her feet. There was the crystal, still glowing faintly before her, but now its glow had faded enough that she could make out her reflection in it. When she saw it, she gasped. She wasn't human any longer! Those had been horns that had sprouted on her head, and fangs that had grown in her mouth, but that was not the worst of it! Her alabaster complexion had turned fiery red; her ears had become slightly pointed, her blue eyes had become yellow and her pupils were slitted like a cat's. Her hair, once blonde, was now jet black; it had come loose from its tail and now hung loose to the middle of her back. Even her clothing was different; her richly embroidered royal tunic had become form-fitting black leather armor; the design of her rapier's hilt was different, too, though it still tingled with magic. As she stared in disbelief, something caught the corner of her eye and she glanced over to see the tail she had felt growing earlier; it was long and thin, as red as the rest of her, and had a fleshy spade at the end. She could feel it now that she was paying attention as it twitched with her agitation. Finally, the truth of what had happened sank in.
She had somehow been transformed into a tiefling.
The princess stumbled back, looking wildly around. She had to get out of here, had to get home... but she didn't look like herself anymore. Who would believe she was the princess? Though the humans of Pelagassus disdained all nonhumans, they bore a particular contempt to tieflings, for they were the descendants of humans who had polluted themselves by mingling their blood with that of demons. Tyria would be thrown out into the streets if she showed up at the palace looking like this; certainly, no one would listen to her! Tieflings might find work as mercenaries or servants, if they were lucky, but for most, it was a life of begging, thievery, or prostitution. That was the best they could get.
In the midst of her horror, a sound came to Tyria's ears. Footsteps. Someone was coming. Someone would see her like this! The princess - princess? Was she still? - gasped and spun around, drawing her sword as she did so. The footsteps grew louder, and then someone stepped through one of the open doors. Her eyes widened as she saw them. It was...