The Monkey King's Curse

Chapter 4: Monkey Business

The gravel crunched under the tires of Anisa’s sedan as they veered away from the main road, but the silence inside the vehicle was heavy, suffocating, and thick with the smell of ozone. Jovan stared at his palms, watching the skin ripple like sun-drenched water.

“How are you feeling?” Anisa asked, her eyes darting to the rearview mirror before snapping back to the winding, tree-lined path. “Don’t lie to me. I need the truth.”

Jovan leaned his head back against the upholstery, his breath hitching. “It’s like… it’s like my bones are made of shifting sand. I can feel the weight of that staff behind my ribs, but it’s fighting with my marrow. It’s angry, Anisa.”

“It’s not angry. It’s just awakening,” she said, her voice strained. “You haven’t even scratched the surface of what that artifact is capable of. It’s rewriting you. That’s why you felt the tail. That’s why you manifested the staff.”

“I’m terrified,” Jovan admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “What if I turn into something else? What if I can’t stop it?”

“You will stop it. You have to,” Anisa countered, her grip on the steering wheel turning her knuckles white. “Think about the hum. Don’t push it away, Jovan. Own it. If you fight it, the energy has to go somewhere, and right now, your body is the only exit.”

Jovan closed his eyes, trying to visualize the golden current. He could hear it—a low, rhythmic vibration that sounded like the heartbeat of the mountain itself. But as he tried to focus, a sharp, stinging pain erupted at the base of his neck. His spine twitched involuntarily, his entire body jerking forward.

“Jovan? Are you okay?”

“It’s coming back,” he gasped, his fingers digging into the leather of the seat. “I can’t hold it. I can’t—”

His speech slurred, the words thickening into a strange, guttural chattering. He clawed at his chest, his fingernails elongating, turning into jagged, dark claws. His clothes suddenly felt too loose, the fabric billowing around him as his frame shrank.

“No, no, no! Not here!” Anisa hissed, swerving the car toward the shoulder of the road. “Jovan, focus! Stay in your skin!”

But it was too late. His legs buckled, his knees popping in a way that sounded like dry kindling snapping. His vision blurred, the world expanding as he plummeted toward the floorboards. His clothes collapsed into a pile of denim and cotton, and in his place, a small, golden-furred creature with wide, terrified eyes scrambled across the floor mat.

Jovan let out a sharp, high-pitched screech, his tail lashing out and striking the gear shift. He felt small—incredibly small—and the world looked massive and terrifying. His senses were dialed up to an impossible degree; he could hear the beating of Anisa’s heart, the grinding of the car’s transmission, and the scuttling of insects in the nearby grass.

“Oh, damn it all to hell,” Anisa whispered, pulling the car to a shuddering halt.

She leaned over, her face looming above him like a giant’s. Jovan cowered, his heart drumming against his tiny ribs. He reached out with a small, dexterous hand, wanting to speak, but all that came out was a series of frantic, chirping squeaks.

“Jovan, look at me,” she said, her voice dropping to a soothing, steady rhythm. “I know it’s confusing. I know you’re scared. But you have to stay still.”

He chirped back, his eyes darting toward the window. He felt an intense, instinctual urge to climb, to flee into the canopy of the forest, but Anisa’s presence acted like an anchor. He trembled, his fur bristling, until he felt her hand wrap around his midsection.

She didn’t squeeze; she held him with a delicate, practiced grace.

“You’re okay. You’re just… shifting,” she muttered, reaching into the backseat for her thick, woolen scarf. “We aren't going to get you home like this. You’d get dissected before you hit the driveway.”

She draped the fabric over him, wrapping him snugly until only his eyes peered out. He felt warm, his tiny body encased in the soft wool, and the frantic instinct to run began to dull into a heavy, lethargic daze.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, stroking the top of his head where his hair had transformed into golden fuzz. “I didn't think it would happen so fast. We have to keep moving. If anyone sees us, I’ll tell them you’re a rescue animal. Don’t bite anyone, okay?”

Jovan let out a low, mournful chitter. He could feel the golden energy pulsing deep within his small, hyper-active heart, struggling to maintain the form. It was exhausting. It felt like holding his breath while submerged in a deep pool.

Anisa shifted the car back into gear and pulled onto the road. “We’re almost there. Just hold on. Don't fight the change, but don't let it take over your mind. You’re Jovan. You’re a human. Remember that.”

The drive felt like an eternity. Jovan huddled in the scarf, watching the world pass by in flashes of green and gray. Every sensation was overwhelming—the smell of the upholstery, the vibration of the road, the intensity of the sunlight. He tried to think of his dorm room, of his textbooks, of his mother’s face, but his mind was flooded with sensory data, with the urge to groom, to chatter, to leap.

He was losing the anchor.

He could feel his own consciousness fraying, the human part of him being pushed into a corner by the raw, animal instincts of the form. He squeezed his eyes shut, picturing the bracelet, the cool, dark cave, the feeling of the metal sliding into his veins.

I am Jovan, he thought, forcing the words through the haze of his animal brain. I am not a monkey. I am a man.

The car hit a bump in the road, jarring him. He felt the golden hum flare, burning like a star in his center. The weight of his body shifted, his limbs lengthening, his fur receding. It was agonizing—a stretching of muscle and bone that felt like a localized earthquake.

Anisa gasped, glancing down at her lap. “Jovan? Is it happening?”

His screech turned into a wet, human cough. His fingers grew, the claws retracting, his skin smoothing out as the golden light surged and then abruptly vanished, sucked back into the void beneath his skin.

He slumped against her legs, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. The car drifted slightly, and Anisa yanked the wheel to steady it.

“Jovan? Talk to me,” she urged, her voice trembling.

He pushed himself up, but his shoulder hit the dashboard. He was completely, utterly exposed. His clothes were nowhere to be found, lost in the chaotic shift, and he was drenched in a fine sheen of sweat.

He felt the cool air of the AC hitting his skin, the reality of his situation slamming into him. He was naked, sitting in the passenger seat of a moving car, his heart still racing like a trapped bird.

“Anisa,” he croaked, his voice raw. He reached for the dashboard, trying to find something to cover himself. “I… I think I’m back.”

Anisa took a long, shaky breath, her eyes darting to him and then back to the road. Her face was flushed, but she maintained her focus with a strength that intimidated him. She reached over and pulled the heavy, oversized hoodie she had been wearing over her shoulder, tossing it into his lap.

“Put that on,” she ordered, not looking at him. “You’re back. But that was close, Jovan. You were seconds away from being a permanent part of the local zoo.”

Jovan scrambled to pull the hoodie over his head, the fabric smelling of her perfume—lavender and something sharper, like old books and rain. He pulled his knees to his chest, hiding his face in the collar.

“I was an animal,” he whispered, the realization chilling him to the bone. “I could feel it, Anisa. I wanted to climb. I wanted to… I wanted to jump out the window.”

“The vessel is leaking, Jovan,” she repeated, her voice solemn. “The artifact isn't just giving you power; it’s trying to reclaim the history it’s linked to. It has memories, biological blueprints. You’re currently playing host to a library of biological forms that shouldn't exist.”

Jovan looked at his hands. They were trembling, but they were his hands. Pale, human, and shaking.

“How many?” he asked, his voice barely audible. “How many more forms are in there?”

Anisa didn’t answer immediately. She signaled, turning the car onto a secluded, overgrown lane that led toward the mountains. “More than you want to know. And if we don't teach you how to lock them down, you won't be Jovan for much longer. You’ll just be a blur of shifting DNA, and eventually, the shift will stick.”

Jovan looked out the window. The woods were closing in, the trees growing taller, more ancient, more imposing. He realized then that he wasn't just hiding from the campus, or from Marcus, or even from his own life. He was hiding from the future that was currently churning inside his blood.

“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice steadying.

“To a place where you can learn to be a master of your own skin,” Anisa replied, looking at him with a gaze that held no pity—only a terrifying, desperate hope. “Because if you can’t handle a simple shift, there is no way you’ll survive the ceremony.”

Jovan didn't ask what ceremony. He was too afraid of the answer. He curled tighter into the hoodie, watching the shadows of the forest lengthen, the golden hum in his veins growing louder, deeper, and more insistent, as if it knew exactly where they were going.

“I’m not a monster,” he whispered to the glass.

“Not yet,” Anisa said quietly. “But we’re going to find out if you have enough of yourself left to prevent it.”