To your surprise, you see the dim blue of evening at the mouth of the cave. Your transformation must have taken longer than you thought, which isn't too surprising. Or else it was already much later here than in your old city, which also would not surprise you.
You emerge back on the beach, a woman instead of a man. The wind stirs your long blue hair and the diaphanous folds of your gown. Suddenly panic seizes you, as if you are just realising what happened to you back in there. Your left hand clutches the scabbard of your blade below the hilt, familiar yet strange; you lay your right on your breast as you try to steady your breathing.
It will be all right, you assure yourself, closing your eyes. Recalling the wonderful feeling as your manhood was washed away. The weight of the circlet on your head, the embrace of your undergarments as they cup your bust and your balls, bring you back to yourself. This is who you are meant to be.
Espera. "Hope." Your breathing calms again, and you open your eyes.
Beyond the wrack of clouds, you can see stars appearing over the sea. But your gaze is drawn back closer to you, down to your feet. Despite the sky above still being overcast, a trail of light is forming across the beach, from the cave to the water. Almost as if the white sand itself is glowing. Your eyes follow it, and you see that it keeps going. Where the surf breaks, the trail lifts into the air, a solid bridge of light, its reflection rippling in the waves below.
Can this be real? You pat your breasts, feeling the nipples press against soft fabric. "Well," you murmur. If a boy can become a woman, I suppose there can be a magical light bridge over the ocean.
It's an amusing thought, if true; but you're too much in awe to laugh. You walk down the sand. Water splashes around your boots, and you lift your skirt. the motion coming naturally to you. As if you'd worn gowns all your life.
Now you pause at the foot of the bridge, where the light lifts from the surf. Your heart is in your mouth. This could be a way out of this desolation -- it might be a way to the city you saw so fleetingly. But then again, it might be an illusion. Or disappear under you, dropping you into dark water.
Tentatively you set your foot on where the light solidifies. It holds. Not an illusion. You step forward. Now you are standing entirely on the light. Still solid. It's real. You are really standing on light.
You swallow, and look back at the cliff. It looms up, even more ominous than before, a fading red haze above its lowering crags marking the dying sunset. No way back. You look ahead. The bridge rises in a shallow arc to the horizon, softly glowing, broad and inviting, reflection rippling below it.
Then I will go forward. Decision made, you step out with a will. Once more your left hand grasps the sheath of your sword, ready to draw it if you encounter any threat, the hardness of the steel within the leather giving you courage. Beneath your soles, the bridge feels as firm as pavement.
As you emerge from the shadow of the clouds, the Moon appears overhead. The bridge gleams, its soft glow intensifying, as if strengthened by the moonlight. Your heart pounds, both fear and excitement increasing as you venture farther and higher. Your crown glows in answer to the bridge, a tingle spreading through you. But you just think it is your nerves, not noticing as your body begins to subtly change even more.