The transformation began in the quiet, sheltered courtyard behind the Artisan Guildhall, beneath the cool shade of a century-old white oak tree whose leaves were turning brilliant gold in the crisp autumn breeze.
Arthur Vance sat on a low wooden bench crafted from seasoned split ash, his polished hickory cane resting across his knees. Beside him on an upturned timber crate sat Dr. Morrigan Calder and Toby Mallow, both watching with focused, breathless attention as the three friend beasts prepared to eat their tailored evolutionary rations.
“The surrounding sky aether is stable at eighteen parts per million,” Calder whispered, checking the liquid silver knee pad on her field barometer. “The wind is blowing down from the northern peaks, keeping the air cool and oxygen-rich. It’s the ideal outside baseline for high-thickness body-energy cellular restructuring.”
Arthur nodded quietly, his gray eyes fixed on his three companions. “Remember the golden rule of comparative beast-doctor evolution: bloodline progression isn’t magic. It’s the body reactivation of dormant genetic sequences, fueled by packed stone and aether catalysts. As their bodies absorb the core fractions, their core heat levels will spike. Their bone thickness will undergo rapid phase-shifts. Keep the cold water buckets and the alum towels ready, Toby.”
