My Friday evening began in the usual fashion: trying to be invisible to the people around me as I waited for a girl to show up and make me seem cool enough by association.

I’d come downtown to the Clarion Room—one of the city’s old music venues, made of creaking wood and dusty brick—to see a band called Magica Riot. My best friend, Hazel, had gotten me into them. I was a late arrival to their fanbase, but they’d quickly become my favorite Portland band.

Hazel was also the girl I was waiting for, and the girl who’d just called me to let me know she couldn’t make it.

“I’m really sorry. I need to cover someone’s shift at the video store tonight, and I could use the money, y’know?”

“That’s totally okay, Haze,” I said. “I understand. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

“Thanks! Curious to hear how they do.”

“You say that like you’re not sure.”

“It’s just that things have been rough since they lost Iris. I dunno. I hope they turn it around.”

The band’s keyboard player, Iris, had passed away two years ago. At least, that was the general feeling; officially, the police said she was “missing.” I only ever got to see them as a four-piece, but I knew a lot of the original fans said they just weren’t the same. I still thought they were incredible, but I had to admit, I felt a twinge of sadness that I’d never be able to see one of those old performances for myself.

“I’ll let you know. It’s not gonna be as much fun without you.”

“Naw, man, you don’t need me. Have a beer or two! Talk and mingle!”

I frowned, even though she couldn’t see me. “I’m terrible at both of those things.”

“No arguments! Go enjoy yourself. Do that sensitive shy nerd guy thing you do.”

I smiled at her compliment even as I winced inside at being called a guy. The term had always felt like a straitjacket and a lie, not that I’d ever admit it.

“Yeah, of course. Don’t work too hard.”

“Never! You know me. Have a good night!”

“You too, Haze. Bye.”

“Bye,” she said, and the call ended.

There was no sense waiting around outside anymore, so I handed my ticket and ID to the girl checking them at the door. Once I was inside, I avoided the ancient, slow elevator, choosing the stairs instead.

A modest crowd had already gathered in the ballroom. Magica Riot didn’t pull the same size audience they used to; besides the loss of their fifth member, they’d developed a habit of cutting shows short and bailing on gigs. Those kinds of things always made the casual fans start looking elsewhere.

So much the better for me tonight. Socializing was one of the things I liked least. I always felt out of place anywhere I went, and just inhabiting spaces seemed like a chore. My body was too tall, too wrong. I was 5’10” and tried to make every inch as unnoticeable as possible, from my nondescript jeans and T-shirts to my short, generic brown hair.

If only Hazel could have been here. She was so cool. I wished I could be like her, in many ways. I’d always thought that, but I’d never faced it, and I wasn’t about to start now.

I resigned myself to being alone in the crowd, and made my way toward the bar to order a beer. I never drank much, but it’d help to pave over the anxiety.

* * *

I’d managed to get about halfway through my beer when a pale, energetic young woman bounded up, leaned on the bar, and waved to the bartender.

She was just a bit shorter than I was. Her outfit was as bright as the grin on her face: a pink tank top that accentuated her strong, wide shoulders, and a black miniskirt over pink fishnets. Her hair was dyed a matching pink and pulled up into fluffy twintails. An “X” in black marker on the back of her hand told me she wasn’t old enough to drink alcohol, and even though I was just 22, that made me feel kind of ancient.

I knew instantly who she was, and it didn’t help my growing anxiety. Her name was Nova, and she was the drummer of Magica Riot.

“Heya,” she said as the bartender approached, “can I get a couple more Shastas for me and my bassist?”

The bartender, the kind of painfully cool girl with assorted piercings and a beanie who are the structural backbone of the Portland food service industry, smiled and nodded.

“Sure thing, I got ya. Give me just a sec.”

Nova bopped her head to the house music and tapped out the beat on the bar top, which set her twintails gently swaying. 

I didn’t want to be awkward, but I also didn’t want to miss the chance to tell her how much I loved Magica Riot’s music. The sheer terror of being perceived was very real, but I had just enough alcohol in me to press onward.

“Uh, excuse me,” I said, “you’re Nova, right?”

She turned to me, a broad grin still affixed to her face.

“That’s me!”

“I just wanted to tell you that I really love your band. Big, big fan.”

“Right on! Thanks, man. I appreciate it!”

I probably should have stopped there, but I felt a little brave.

“Loved y’all ever since my friend played me ‘Gender Hypocritical’ one night. So good.”

“Aw, thanks! I love that one, too. Sara’s vocals are so intense, y’know?”

I kept going without realizing what topic I was dancing toward. “For sure, yeah, it really got me super emotional.”

Nova gave me a curious look, so quick I almost didn’t notice. I immediately regretted saying that, convinced I’d been too much by making a vague, sideways acknowledgment of my many personal gender issues, and tried to change the subject.

“Also, uh, I love what you all did with the chord progression in the bridge. Totally caught me off-guard.”

“You know music and stuff?”

“I know some,” I nodded. “I play keyboards. Not, like, in a band, or whatever. Not since high school.”

She beamed at me. “That’s awesome! You ever think about gettin’ back into it?”

I shifted on my bar stool. “Well, I wouldn’t say no, I guess. Don’t know if I’m really cut out for being in a band.”

“Hey, you never know! Might surprise yourself! Maybe you gotta change whatever’s in the way, know what I’m saying?”

A weird pang of anxiety hit me. “Um, not rea—”

The bartender returned with the Shastas, interrupting my thought before I could finish. Nova thanked her before turning her attention back to me.

“I gotta run, but for real, thanks for the kindness, Keyboards,” she said, as she slid off the bar stool. “I expect to see ya front and center right up by the stage, alright? I’ll put ‘Gender Hypocritical’ on the set list for ya!”

I felt myself blush a little. “Awesome. Can’t wait.”

“I mean it. Front and center. I’m gonna make sure!”

“I promise.”

“Good. I’m making ya our honorary lady tonight, since I can tell you’ve got the heart of a maiden.”

She winked at me, and I felt a flutter in my chest. I had always dreamed about being a girl, but I never openly shared that with anybody. Was she onto me? Or was I just overthinking things? Either way, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she could see right through me.

Before I could form a reply, she had breezed past, headed for the backstage access door.

I got up from my bar stool and made my way toward the stage. Whenever I went to these things with Hazel, she was outgoing enough for the both of us. Without her, though, I usually fell into some bad habits.

I’d try to stay in the back of the crowd, preferably off to the side and deep in the shadows. I’d stand with my shoulders hunched, my head down, and my hands in my pockets, doing my best to not be noticed. Basically, I was terrified of taking up space. It felt bad having a bunch of people looking at the version of me I was stuck with, because I doubted I’d ever muster up the courage to change it.

Tonight, though—maybe I could make an exception and stand up at the front of the stage. Nova had requested it, after all.

As I made my way through the crowd, the house lights dimmed, the background music slowly faded out, and the members of Magica Riot walked out into the rainbow-hued stage light.

The band’s lead singer and rhythm guitarist stepped up to her microphone. Sara Ward’s whole aesthetic always seemed impossibly cool to me: tall and strong-looking in tight jeans, the sleeves of her red button-down shirt rolled up, with a head of short auburn hair that glowed in the stage light. Around her neck, she wore a short lavender scarf tied as an ascot, which made her look more than a little princely.

People said she seemed much more restrained these days, since Iris was gone. Having never seen them in person at their peak, I could only go by old videos. She did seem quieter and less exuberant now. I’d never focused too much on it, since it was completely understandable, considering what the band had gone through.

Sara looked out across the room and gave a small nod. “Hey, friends. Thanks for coming. We’re Magica Riot.”

With that, Nova counted off a beat, and the band launched into “Like You,” which wasn’t something I was prepared for right at the start. That song was one of my favorites, and nearly always made me cry.

It was also the last single they’d released as a five-piece, and the last song written by Iris.

My gaze was drawn to Hana Hasegawa, the bassist. She and Nova made for a formidable rhythm section, effortlessly locking in together like two gears, in perfect sync. Yet, as individuals, they seemed like complete opposites. Nova’s energy crackled like electricity, while Hana exuded a calm and cheerful demeanor, swaying to the beat of her bass and Nova’s kick drum. Her long, dark brown ponytail bobbed and swayed with each nod of her head. But it was on her instrument that she truly shined.

As Sara stepped toward the mic and her voice filled the air, I felt my heart ache with longing. I had always been drawn to female musicians, envious of their ability to express themselves so freely through their art. In my daydreams, I imagined myself joining them on stage, finally able to show the world my true self.

I couldn’t linger on that ache for too long, so I pushed those thoughts to the side and zeroed in on the lyrics as Sara sang.

I always do things the hard way, can’t fall in line right now, oh maybe someday, try to smile and do what I’m told, don’t step out of line or be a little too bold.

Identity, self-image, living as yourself. Anytime the band’s songwriting turned to those subjects, I felt tears well up in my eyes. Why shouldn’t girls—of all kinds, however they got to be girls—get to be exactly who they wanted to be? Why shouldn’t they live free and happy without society cutting them down? I believed that, as strongly as I ever believed anything. I wanted to fight for them. I want to be—

At the chorus, Sara’s voice blasted out across the room.

What’s it like to be like you? What’s it like to be beautiful and true?

My breath caught in my throat and I pushed back my tears; at the same time, I glanced down from Sara to the back of the stage. My eyes caught Nova’s as she drummed.

Without breaking the beat, she grinned at me, that same odd grin she’d given me at the bar, and shot me another wink. For just a moment, I felt warm inside in a way I couldn’t quite process.

My mind drifted for a moment, and before I knew it, the chorus had ended and Cass Coates, the lead guitarist, was launching into a short solo to segue into the next verse. Cass was an exceptional musician, with precise, laser-like skills on the guitar. She also looked effortlessly cool, like a true rock star. As she played, the rolled-up sleeves of her yellow flannel shirt accented her toned arms and dark skin, as her twist-out hairstyle cascaded over her eyes. Together with Hana’s bass counter-melodies, their interlocking parts created a perfect harmony between guitar and bass riffs.

By the time she’d finished and Sara had gone into the second verse, whatever lingering anxiety I had about being at the front of the crowd was gone. I left myself drift along on the music, let the beat pound and thump against my chest as the guitars snaked around me. It almost felt, for the rest of the set, like I was one with the song.

I wished I could feel that feeling all the time.

The band powered through the rest of the set, playing favorite after favorite while I stood transfixed at the front of the crowd. With each passing song, I felt my emotions build into a high I knew I’d eventually crash down from, but I rode it for as long as I could.

During the final song, Sara’s voice soared over thundering drums and wailing guitars, and suddenly broke into a tormented, aching scream that pierced through the crowd. I felt the energy in the room shift into unease and concern. People stopped nodding along to the beat, and a hush fell over the room.

A beat later, it was gone; Nova smashed her drum kit and Cass ripped into one last solo, bringing the mood back around. The smallish crowd clapped and cheered; I joined them, heart pounding, completely caught up in the moment.

With a crash of Nova’s cymbals, the final song came to an end. Sara took the mic one last time and nodded to the room.

"Thank you, friends. We’ve been Magica Riot. Be good to each other.”

It was a short set, barely twenty minutes, but it hit me like a truck all the same.

After the set, the band took down their gear to move it off stage as a small group of diehard fans gathered around for autographs. I desperately wanted to go over and tell them how much I loved the show. My mind raced with thoughts and scenarios, practicing them in my head, trying to come up with a way to approach them without seeming weird or desperate. A way to just seem like a normal, functional human being.

But my anxiety got the best of me. Those fans were all much cooler and more interesting than I could ever hope to be, and I couldn’t bring myself to join. After several long, agonizing moments, I let out a sigh and headed to the bar to close out my tab and avoid any potential awkward interactions.

After I closed out, I headed for the door without looking back at the stage. Right before I reached the door, I nearly collided with two guys dressed in flannel and jeans who were standing together at the back of the room. I muttered an apology, but neither of them responded. They both glared at me in a way that was intimidating and strangely vacant. Since they were also both noticeably bulkier than I was, I decided it was best to just move along.

I pushed through the bar’s front door and exited onto the sidewalk. The summer air in downtown Portland was warm and still, which meant I’d be sweating by the time I got to the MAX station. I frowned at the prospect; it’d be best to take it easy the rest of the way home.

Soon, I got the feeling that somebody was following me.

I’d cut down a side street between two office buildings looming in the dark above me, emptied out for the evening. A block over, bars and restaurants were open and attracting crowds, so I knew that here, I wouldn’t have to walk through the Friday night rush. The downside was feeling alone and isolated from the safety of crowds, but I had never felt all that nervous walking around downtown at night.

Until now. I picked up my pace, and as I neared the end of the block, I glanced back over my shoulder, hoping to dispel my paranoia.

I spotted them immediately: two bulky figures, silhouetted against the distant streetlights. My encounter leaving the club was more consequential than I’d hoped.

I considered my options if the situation took a bad turn. The MAX station wasn’t that far, so conceivably, I could just turn right at the end of the block and head back to the Friday crowds for the rest of my walk. Safety in numbers and all that. I didn’t want a confrontation; my main goal was to be left alone to live my life, free of bruises and wounds. I never thought that was too much to ask.

I dared another glance, and couldn’t help but notice the two figures were startlingly close now. Much closer than should have been possible. How the hell had they closed the distance so quickly?

I was just about to break out into a run when I felt a powerful hand clamp down on my shoulder. The city spun as my body slammed into the building’s wall. A shock of pain radiated through me, and I found myself pinned. The impact rattled me, and it took a moment to refocus.

But once I did, my blood ran cold. The two guys from the bar towered over me, their blank expressions and empty eyes regarding me with clinical disconnect. That strange vacancy struck me again; it was as if they were only going through the motions of being human.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said. “I don’t want any trouble, okay?”

Silence. Not a muscle so much as twitched on either of their faces.

“Seriously, whatever it was that I did, I’m sorry! I promise I didn’t mean to do it!”

Nothing.

“If you want my wallet, you can take it! There’s hardly anything in there anyway! Just let me go!”

At this, finally, I got a reaction. Unfortunately, it was far worse than I could have possibly imagined.

The one on my right—the one not pinning me to the wall by my shoulder—raised his hand. With the most sickening wet crunching sound I’ve ever heard, his hand split apart and dissolved, revealing a shimmering chromatic silvery-white spike.

The sharp tip of the spike gleamed even in the ambient city light. A pattern of holes formed around it, as though the spike was meant to penetrate into something and extract things from it, or inject things into it.

I did not want either of these to happen to me.

I opened my mouth, but my voice failed. Fear paralyzed me. The man—the creature—raised its spike and aimed it at me. An energy radiated from it that chilled some ancient part of my mind.

It pulled back and prepared to strike, but it never got the chance.

"No flammin' way, jerks!"

The creatures were suddenly flung back through the air, landing on the pavement a good twenty feet away with a loud smack. My jaw dropped, and remained there as I noticed Nova standing where the creatures had just been, her twintails swaying in the breeze. She grinned and gave me a little wave.

“Ugh, I knew I had a scummy feeling about tonight. You okay, Keyboards?”

I stared back and blinked slowly. “I don’t even know how to begin to answer that.”

She laughed. “That’s totally fair! I’m gonna deal with these losers, ‘kay? You’ll be fine. I just need you to get back and let me work. Grab a hiding spot for me.”

She pointed toward a pair of grimy dumpsters against the wall, signaling me to go there for cover. My mind was still reeling from the sudden turn of events, unable to fully process what was happening.

“Nova,” I stammered, my voice shaking. “What—what the hell is happening?”

Out in the street, the creatures struggled back to their feet. Their human forms fell apart as their skin ripped to pieces. Wet scraping sounds accompanied every movement. Whatever false viscera and tissue had been concealing their true appearance began to glop off of their bodies and onto the pavement, dissolving as more of their chromatic silvery shells emerged.

Nova grinned at me. “No need for language! Just get to cover! Things are gonna get serious-style unpleasant in a hurry. I gotta teach these jerks a lesson, in a dismemberment sense.”

With loud snaps and squelches, the creatures’ human heads shattered. Hair, eyes, bits of skull, it all disintegrated. New heads as sharp and pointed as their arms appeared in their place and sprouted four ink-black orbs. As their mouths transformed into dark circular openings, thick shells burst from their chests, breaking through flesh and bone with a sickening wet crack. Every step they took sent shivers down my spine as the sound of their transformation echoed against the surrounding buildings.

“What are those things?” I asked.

“You’re better off not knowin’ right now. Just get back! I gotta do a thing real quick.”

“I don’t understand!”

“No arguing! I ain’t gonna let you get hurt on my watch!”

She grabbed me, and I felt a jolt. Ethereal light filled my eyes, radiating warmth that seemed to seep into every fiber of my being. Visceral, ancient sensations penetrated deep into me, down into my very cells.

“Okay, yeah, thought so,” Nova said, more to herself than to me. She smiled. “It’s okay, Keyboards. You just gotta trust me, alright?”

I was so enraptured by the sensations flowing into me that I didn’t protest.

Nova sat me down behind the dumpsters and turned her attention back to the creatures. They were now unrecognizable as anything resembling human, their bulky chitinous shells having completely replaced their disguises. Blood and bits of liquified flesh slid off them as the hard, chromatic surface underneath gleamed in the streetlights.

Not that this concerned me now, as I was experiencing some kind of supernatural trip. The fear and confusion that had consumed me just moments before had dissipated, and a sense of security and benevolence settled in its place. It grew stronger with each passing moment, sending warm, joyful tendrils of tranquility through my mind. I had never felt anything even close to this. It was as if all my worries were being washed away and replaced with a blanket of pure serenity.

“Trust, yeah,” I managed, though I didn’t know if she heard me. “I trust you, Nova.” It was almost a realization. 

As the creatures approached her, Nova lifted her wrist to her mouth and spoke into a watch-like device I hadn’t noticed before.

“Hey cuties! I’ve got a little after-party sitch with a couple of Pandoras near Thirteenth and Alder. Anybody wanna join the fun?” She turned and gave me an awkward thumbs-up. I wasn’t sure if I should return it.

A moment later, she raised her hand skyward. In a new development in the evening’s things-that-seemed-impossible festival, a glittering microphone covered in blue jewels appeared out of thin air, and she grasped it. She lowered it to her lips and shouted into it at the approaching creatures.

“Maidensong harmony power … go live!”

Out of nowhere, a dazzling burst of electric blue energy engulfed her. The air crackled with raw power. I could barely perceive a rush of motion, but it was too swift for my eyes to track. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the vibrant explosion dissipated, revealing a figure in its center. It was a girl in a sleek black jacket adorned with bits of blue. Her skirt, starting short and angling out to a longer length at the back, was a striking contrast of jet black with blue trim. Tall punk boots adorned her feet, reaching up to her knees, and studded fingerless gloves completed her look.

I could tell it was Nova, but her presence had completely changed. She fearlessly stood in front of the approaching creatures and raised her arm, pointing straight at them. When she spoke, she spoke.

“I am a guardian of song and heart! Servants of the darkness, be silenced by the song of Riot Blue!”

The creatures lunged at her. With shocking speed, she dodged the first and swung her fist at the second. Her punch landed square in its chest, which once again sent the creature flying back. The first creature, meanwhile, staggered as it missed her and spun around in an attempt to reorient itself and try again.

Nova held up her hands. In a burst of glittering blue light, two drumsticks materialized in her grasp. Several phantom discs, like holographic drum heads, materialized around her. She started to play, hammering and pounding at the discs with precise fury, and I recognized the beat of “Down in the Lilies,” a song off the band’s last album. Blue energy crackled and sparked around her in time to the rhythm.

She glared at the creature she’d dodged as it prepared another attack.

“You want some? You can’t handle it, creepo!”

The holo-drums pulsed and glowed as she unleashed a monster drum fill and a crash of the virtual cymbals floating in front of her. A huge shockwave rippled out of the drums and smashed into the creature. It went flying into the wall of the building nearby. The sharp crack of chitin on concrete rattled my bones.

The other creature she’d punched had regained its footing out of her line of sight, and it looked like it wanted revenge. It rushed over in my direction and jabbed its spiked arms into the dumpster I wasn’t hiding behind. It lifted the entire thing above its head, and ran toward Nova, her back still turned.

I tensed as a realized what was about to happen and tried to call out to her—but before I could, the entire world slowed until the scene in front of me was at a standstill.

A loud ringing pierced my skull and reverberated down through me. I reached up to touch my head, but I had no command of my body. Dizziness swept over me, and I smacked against the rough metal of the dumpster for stability. I fought for control, but I felt impossibly small and helpless, and the ringing only intensified. It punched deeper, like a blast of ice water into my core.

From a place beyond the reaches of my consciousness, I heard a faint noise, distant yet unmistakable in its presence. It seemed to echo from another dimension, beckoning to me, and I strained to make it out.

Y … an … av … r …

“What did you say?” I couldn’t tell if I was speaking out loud or only thinking.

The voice spoke again, close and clear, a whisper in my ear that hushed the din outside.

You can save her.

“Save her? I can’t save her!”

You can save her. You carry the pure heart of a maiden.

“What are you talking about?”

Listen to the song, and awaken, young maiden.

I shook my head.

“You’ve got it wrong! I’m not a maiden! I’m just a guy.”

I know what you are, even if you deny yourself.

The words pierced my heart, a precision blade slicing straight through me.

“I don’t want her to get hurt, but I can’t do anything.”

Open your heart, and listen to my song.

“Your song?”

The Maidensong will give you the power to save her. Open your heart.

Tears filled my eyes as I struggled to make sense of the voice’s words. Nova was in danger because of me, and it didn’t sit right with my conscience. I would do anything to protect her, but at that moment, I felt utterly helpless.

That warm sensation spread through me once again, this time concentrated at my right hand. Slowly, I raised it up to examine it, feeling drawn to the source of the warmth. There, shimmering in my palm, was a microphone adorned with glistening purple jewels. As I grasped it, its purpose became clear—it was a conduit, a means for me to tap into something much greater than myself.

As if in reaction to my realization, a jolt of energy rocked my body. The most beautiful song I’d ever heard started to build inside my ears, pushing against me like it was trying to escape out into the world. As it crested into a deafening noise, the otherworldly whisper cut through it all with one word: 

Awaken!

My hand brought the microphone to my lips and I heard my voice shout into the darkness.

“Maidensong harmony power … go live!”

The song exploded like a rose blooming, a tidal wave of warmth and euphoria that consumed every fiber of my being. It felt like the world itself was enveloping me in a cocoon of softness, shielding me from all pain and fear. The intensity of it all was startling, but I welcomed it with open arms, reveling in the overwhelming surge of raw power coursing through me.

I felt the ground disappear beneath my feet and realized I was floating. My limbs moved in slow, graceful arcs, guided by the song. With each turn, I felt my body changing, transforming into something new.

My clothes strained against my skin in unfamiliar ways, revealing curves and contours that were not there before, as a bold, radiant glow began to emanate from me. I held my breath, feeling the song’s need to escape, pushing against the inside of my heart. 

And I realized that I wanted it to. All doubt had gone, and I knew then that I wanted to shine.

Permission granted, the song’s glow burst out, splitting into vibrant hues of purple that enveloped me and added speed to my twirls. As I spun, my clothes faded away, and I watched as a new outfit began to materialize on my body.

The warmth from the energy pulsed outward from my heart, creating a visible wave that rippled across my skin. In its wake, a black jacket with dazzling purple trim appeared on my torso. At my waist, an angled black skirt took shape, longer in the back, with matching purple trim.

The glow faded, and the new boots on my feet slammed onto the pavement with a solid jolt. The final note of the song reverberated inside me, filling me with unwavering confidence and determination.

And the voice returned, echoing in my mind once more.

You are reborn, my maiden. Now, save her.

Without question or hesitation, I understood. As time returned to normal, I ran toward my target, dimly aware that I was running faster than I ever could have before.

I leapt over the creature carrying the dumpster, landing between it and Nova. As the creature raised the dumpster above its head to crush us, I let out a ferocious cry and launched into a spinning kick that connected hard with the creature’s head. It was thrown backward, tumbling over itself as the dumpster flew out into the street in a thunderous crash.

Nova must have turned around, because I heard her stammer behind me.

“Keyboards, are you—”

I stared at the creature I’d just kicked, pointed at it, and felt words pass from my lips from somewhere deep inside, the final words of the song of my rebirth.

“I am a guardian of song and heart! Servants of the darkness, be silenced by the song of Riot Purple!”

In the breath after, all doubt finally erased, I turned to face Nova, her megawatt smile almost blinding.

“I knew it!” she shouted. “I flammin’ knew it! You’re a maiden, babe! Get a look at yourself!”

I stared back at her in a mixture of disbelief and joy. “What happened to me?"

Nova slid her phone out of her jacket pocket and opened the camera app. She held the screen up to my face, and I saw myself for the first time.

My costume highlighted curves on my chest and hips that I’d always wished for but never thought I’d have. The skirt flared out around shapely legs in knee-high boots. My hair cascaded down to my shoulders, framing a face that was recognizably mine, but soft and rounded—I even dared to think cute.

Nova beamed and pointed at the screen. “You were closeted, babe! And now you’re a grade-A certified magical girl!”

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing or what Nova was saying, but as I looked at myself on the screen, a sense of euphoria washed over me. I was no longer hiding who I truly was, and it felt liberating. The magic inside of me had finally been unlocked, and I was ready to embrace it fully.

The creatures were regrouping for another attack. Shoulder to shoulder, tensed like coiled springs, we stared them down as they approached. The power in me was telling me to fight, slipping past my anxiety, and I couldn’t deny it. I didn’t want to deny it.

“You ready to do this?” I asked.

Nova shot me a wicked grin. “You better believe I am! You won’t have a weapon yet, but you’ll do fine! Lemme help ya with crowd control, and let’s get in there!” She swung her fists in a series of mock uppercuts.

I nodded, not sure what I was agreeing to. If Nova had a strategy, she wasn’t forthcoming. I felt around in my mind for something that seemed right. “Um, I guess you give me an opening?”

Nova raised her glowing drumsticks. “I got ya, babe! Get ready to move!”

With a small nod, Nova summoned her holo-drums drums and played a beat, another song I knew from the band’s setlist. I listened for a moment, felt the rhythm pumping in my chest, and rushed toward the nearest creature.

She executed a thunderous fill on the drums, and a glowing circle of blue energy appeared beneath the creature. Within that circle, shockwaves ripped into it from all sides, and the creature recoiled as the waves engulfed it. Taking advantage of its disorientation, I moved in time to the beat, slipped between the shockwaves, and rammed my fist as hard as I could into the creature’s face.

My punch reacted with Nova’s energy, and I smashed the creature up against one of her shockwaves. I saw the creature’s shell discolor as fissures formed across it and realized that if I kept to Nova’s rhythm, I had all the power I needed. I punched it over and over in time with her beat, and our combined attacks pummeled it back and forth until a chunk of the shimmering white shell flew off. Thick black goo spilled out of the hole in its body, and it screamed and reeled back from me.

By this point, the second creature was getting closer. I turned my attention to it just in time to see Nova come flying in, feet first, and slam into its chest. She rolled and leapt back to her feet as her target dropped to the pavement, and I took my opportunity. I ran over and brought both my fists down on its shell, knocking a hole in it, spilling more of the foul-smelling black goo. It sizzled as it made contact with the pavement.

The first creature had struggled back to its feet and came at us again, far more unsteadily than before. I could see pulsating tubes and sacs in the hole I’d punched in it.

“I think we’re ‘bout ready for a final blow, Purple,” Nova said. “You in?”

I smiled at the mention of my new color. “I’m in, Blue.”

She beamed at me. “Then feel my rhythm and take the solo, babe!”

I sprinted toward the creature. It pulled back one of its spike arms with the clear intention of spearing me, and I let it think it might actually pull that off until the last possible moment. Just as it heaved that spike at me, I dove down and hurled myself toward its legs. I slammed into them and sent the creature tumbling down over me, and I hit the pavement. With a final push, I launched myself back up and skidded to a stop, then rushed the creature again and grabbed hold of it from behind.

Though I couldn’t understand the creature’s sounds, it definitely seemed surprised, and that was before Nova leapt at it. She held her arm up as she flew at the creature, and a glowing cymbal materialized in her hand. She brought the cymbal down on the creature’s head with massive force, and another bright flash of blue energy blasted it upon impact.

The cymbal cratered into the creature’s shell and punched straight through. It fell slack in my grip before it burned away into a cloud of blue particles that dissipated on the breeze.

Nova kept going and changed course. She ran at the other creature and hurled the cymbal out of her hand, sending it slicing straight into the hole in the creature’s chest. It screamed before it, too, disintegrated into a cloud of blue particles.

Nova stood there and caught her breath, then gestured her hand at the cymbal now lying on the pavement. It rose into the air a few feet, took on a blue glow, and de-materialized.

Then, she turned back to me, grinned, and patted me on the back.

“Flam! Purple, you’re so cool! You really pulled it off! I wish everybody else coulda seen it!”

I smiled back and tried to respond. Instead, I felt my limbs go weak, and I stumbled back, barely keeping my footing.

Nova grabbed my arm and tried to steady me.

“Purple? Babe? Hey, you alright? Stay with me, okay? Hang on, the crew’s almost here!”

It was no use. My vision cartwheeled, hazy with purple energy. I felt myself changing again, as if partially returning to my old form. I regained awareness just in time to see the sidewalk rushing up at me before everything went black.

Read the rest in Magica Riot