Villain Transmigration: Author Transformation

The once lush vegetation which sprawled all over the lands now covered in snow: treetops, hills, mounds, even the lakes, and rivers formed swatches of snow on top of it. 

Winds got worse with its coldness, but it was the least of his concerns as he was immune to such temperatures. The only thing he had in mind was the piles of snow coating its wings over time, and their flight became rocky amidst the frigid turbulence.

'This isn't looking good,' he thought and braced himself for the inevitable impact. Upon gripping the saddle, he noticed her squirming behind him.

To his surprise, she already took out her grimoire. With that, she murmured, plucking a feather—the one with white from halfway below it—and then bit her finger, smearing her blood on the blank page, inscribing a magical circle.

After a quarter of a minute, the book went aglow as she closed it, and the piles of snow on its feathered torso thawed, fizzling into white smoke, and the roc screeched with glee. They went back and rose to a higher altitude. 

Keith, for that, was more than grateful for her actions.

They had to venture two more large territories to venture ahead of them before they would reach the 'Northern Taiga' and it's been so long since they took flight. 

One of them was the heart of the northern territory, where Mystique's home stood and shone like a beacon in the sea of icy darkness.

He once grew up in the northern region and now knew the places by heart. 

Supposedly, several miles from now, there would've been subtle starlight, twinkling amidst the horizon of nothing but billows of snowy clouds and the expanse of mountain ranges.

But there was nothing in there…

Drawing closer, he squinted and seen not a pint of shimmer from far afield.

'Why am I not seeing such brilliance, have I gone mad—?' Then he scrunched his face, pausing for a while as what bore to him was just a dark, stark silhouette of a grand edifice that stood atop the mountainous terrain.

For the first time, the place was now devoid of radiance.

It became a classic scary old castle.

'I have a bad feeling about this.'

Luckily, what caught his ears, after twitching for quite some time, found clamors on the ground with almost a chatter erupting among them.

He peered to the side and noticed her baffled look, which he took as an opportunity.

"My Lady, it's getting worse, should we go back to Starbrooke Castle?"

With a tap on his back, he shifted the direction, ever-so-slightly to the left, and headed to where they would stop for a moment. 

Almost by the outskirts of the Starbrooke Castle, he signaled the roc to a graceful descent.

Wings beat for a while, thrashing out the thick layer of snow on its feet before anchoring on the frozen ground. 

He looked back, and the silence was rather stifling; as much as he didn't want to believe that their place called home was in deep trouble. 

Just as when he was about to trudge forth, she grabbed him by the arm, halting him.

[Wait, I'm not sensing Father…]

In that instance, almost his worst nightmare came out alive, crawling onto his skin with a grave chill. Even when he heightened his senses, not a speck of Arnold's presence became known to him.

[Where is he?]

"This… This is preposterous!" he breathed, wandering his gaze out of disbelief.

[No, we need to go in. NOW!—]

Then, he blocked her with arms raised sidewards, uttering, "My Lady, I have a bad feeling that we mustn't rush things when we go inside."

[...I agree.] She nodded, concurring with him after glancing at the castle. [We might need some help from His Grace, J—Nathan… In this case…]

"... A sound plan." 

Keith turned a blind eye on her recent action, as though she hesitated. Not once did she seek help first, and believed in herself that she could do it on her own. 

This was an important matter they had to overcome.

"What do you have in mind?"

[We need to send this roc to him. With a parchment on its talons, we can do that.] Withal, she wrote as fast as she could in her grimoire, and tore it. A frosty kiss became a sealant after rolling the magical page for the roc to return.

Keith patted its head after nudging its beak on his cheek. "Please send our regards…" 

After which, he was on bended knee, reaching out the scroll to his talons.

With a grip, wings flapped many times before flying away from them.

[Let's go.]

Towards the towering walls, they stood, arching their necks.

"My Lady, hold on to me tight."

Mystique's lips parted, and her eyebrows creased a little in confusion as she stared at him. 

Long before she knew it, he growled low, and his body was suddenly in convulsions. One after another, his clothes and even the cloak had a large rip before it shredded to smaller fabrics.

Suddenly, he propped on all fours of both feet, and arms turned into enormous paws

Keith wasn't in pain, rather embraced by how his senses heightened—head moving side to side, and the vision a few miles away from him became crystal clear.

Meanwhile, she observed his toned body grew with hairs covering his bare skin. Protruded fangs were prevalent and intimidating.

'Ahh! It's been a while since I've become like this…'

She was poker face, nodding, but her dilated pupils trembled otherwise.

When his emerald eyes gleamed, a tad grin with a misty breath came, saying, "Ready when you are."

Through his cue, she mounted behind him, grabbing a handful of his fur. 

Keith leaped and climbed as fast as he could. It didn't take half a minute to reach the top and landed stealthily.

However, looking around and the soldiers got knocked out to deep sleep.

"Hmm, let's go inside."

Soon as they moved in, almost at the main gate of the castle, there found an old man, in a tattered tailcoat and trousers, covered in snow and dirt. 

Even with that unusual appearance and lurching stature, he recognized who he was—the real deal—thus roaring aloud, "Sir Johannes!"

Johannes turned around, from his bewildered and terrified countenance painted along his senile, messy face now beamed with utmost joy.

"Keith! Finally!" he cried.

"What's going on?"

The head butler overcame with tears and snot, sobbing, "His Grace—and his soldiers—taken hostage!"

[W—Who?]

"....An imperial decree."