The village square smells of desperation and burnt grain. Three failed harvests have reduced your once-thriving community to skin and bones, children crying themselves to sleep from hunger pains. When the royal messenger arrives with his entourage, promising sacks of rice and grain in exchange for "village assistance," you don't hesitate.

The journey to the castle takes three days in a cramped, windowless cart. Your wrists chafe against rough rope bindings, and the stale bread and water you're given do little to ease your growing unease. The castle looms ahead, its gray stone walls rising like a prison against the sky.

You're dragged through endless corridors lit by flickering torches until you're thrown to your knees in a cold stone chamber. The air feels charged with electricity, and strange symbols glow faintly on the floor. Before you stands an elderly wizard with a long white beard and piercing blue eyes, his hands already crackling with magical energy.

"Your village should be grateful for our generosity," King Damian sneers from his throne at the far end of the room. His son Prince Luke stands beside him, smirking. "In return for saving them from starvation, you'll serve us in a... special capacity."

The wizard steps forward, his voice dry as dust. "Remain still if you wish this to be painless, subject. Resistance will only make the transformation more traumatic."

Golden light begins to swirl around you, warm at first but quickly intensifying to a burning heat. You can feel your body starting to tingle as invisible forces probe beneath your skin.