Then Pilar calls on her curse's power: and guides herself and Ione to a shop not meant for mortal customers: a merchant Efreeti who honed their fleshcraft through ages long even for Fire, and who now perfects the most cherished slaves of other Efreet.

His craft is a painful one, and Ione shies from it and refuses.

Pilar submits herself to it, to the Efreeti's slight surprise.  She is held down with chains like any other subject, and things done to her that make her scream for real.  It does not quench the thirst inside her, only feeds it.

Ione finds some temporary shelter in a great library while all this is going on; Ione's own Constitution is also Wish-raised and Belt-buffed and she is not tired, but Ione's curse does still hold sway over her.  It's unlikely Ione will be able to attune herself, to this library, and borrow from it, for she does not have time to truly dwell there and learn its stacks; but there is no book that Ione cannot read.

When the Efreet is done, Pilar is just the same shape as before and nothing about her is larger or smaller, nor would anyone fail to recognize her face at a glance (except maybe Keltham).  But a thousand subtle imperfections are burned away, and her hair is truly the color that she's always Prestidigitated it.  She is not changed away from herself, she is herself perfected, for the Efreet know this to be Art in the crafting of slaves.

Then Pilar calls on her curse's power: and guides herself and Ione to a shop not meant for mortal customers: a merchant Efreeti who honed their fleshcraft through ages long even for Fire, and who now perfects the most cherished slaves of other Efreet.

His craft is a painful one, and Ione shies from it and refuses.

Pilar submits herself to it, to the Efreeti's slight surprise.  She is held down with chains like any other subject, and things done to her that make her scream for real.  It does not quench the thirst inside her, only feeds it.

Ione finds some temporary shelter in a great library while all this is going on; Ione's own Constitution is also Wish-raised and Belt-buffed and she is not tired, but Ione's curse does still hold sway over her.  It's unlikely Ione will be able to attune herself, to this library, and borrow from it, for she does not have time to truly dwell there and learn its stacks; but there is no book that Ione cannot read.

When the Efreet is done, Pilar is just the same shape as before and nothing about her is larger or smaller, nor would anyone fail to recognize her face at a glance (except maybe Keltham).  But a thousand subtle imperfections are burned away, and her hair is truly the color that she's always Prestidigitated it.  She is not changed away from herself, she is herself perfected, for the Efreet know this to be Art in the crafting of slaves.

Then Pilar calls on her curse's power: and guides herself and Ione to a shop not meant for mortal customers: a merchant Efreeti who honed their fleshcraft through ages long even for Fire, and who now perfects the most cherished slaves of other Efreet.

His craft is a painful one, and Ione shies from it and refuses.

Pilar submits herself to it, to the Efreeti's slight surprise.  She is held down with chains like any other subject, and things done to her that make her scream for real.  It does not quench the thirst inside her, only feeds it.

Ione finds some temporary shelter in a great library while all this is going on; Ione's own Constitution is also Wish-raised and Belt-buffed and she is not tired, but Ione's curse does still hold sway over her.  It's unlikely Ione will be able to attune herself, to this library, and borrow from it, for she does not have time to truly dwell there and learn its stacks; but there is no book that Ione cannot read.

When the Efreeti is done, Pilar is just the same shape as before and nothing about her is larger or smaller, nor would anyone fail to recognize her face at a glance (except maybe Keltham).  But a thousand subtle imperfections are burned away, and her hair is truly the color that she's always Prestidigitated it.  She is not changed away from herself, she is herself perfected, for the Efreet know this to be Art in the crafting of slaves.

Then Pilar calls on her curse's power: and guides herself and Ione to a shop not meant for mortal customers: a merchant Efreeti who honed their fleshcraft through ages long even for Fire, and who now perfects the most cherished slaves of other Efreet.

His craft is a painful one, and Ione shies from it and refuses.

Pilar submits herself to it, to the Efreeti's slight surprise.  She is held down with chains like any other subject, and things done to her that make her scream for real.  It does not quench the thirst inside her, only feeds it.

Ione finds some temporary shelter in a great library while all this is going on; Ione's own Constitution is also Wish-raised and Belt-buffed and she is not tired, but Ione's curse does still hold sway over her.  It's unlikely Ione will be able to attune herself, to this library, and borrow from it, for she does not have time to truly dwell there and learn its stacks; but there is no library book that Ione cannot read.

When the Efreeti is done, Pilar is just the same shape as before and nothing about her is larger or smaller, nor would anyone fail to recognize her face at a glance (except maybe Keltham).  But a thousand subtle imperfections are burned away, and her hair is truly the color that she's always Prestidigitated it.  She is not changed away from herself, she is herself perfected, for the Efreet know this to be Art in the crafting of slaves.

Then Pilar calls on her curse's power: and guides herself and Ione to a shop not meant for mortal customers: a merchant Efreeti who honed their fleshcraft through ages long even for Fire, and who now perfects the most cherished slaves of other Efreet.

His craft is a painful one, and Ione shies from it and refuses.

Pilar submits herself to it, to the Efreeti's slight surprise.  She is held down with chains like any other subject, and things done to her that make her scream for real.  It does not quench the thirst inside her, only feeds it.

Ione finds some temporary shelter in a great library while all this is going on; Ione's own Constitution is also Wish-raised and Belt-buffed and she is not tired, but Ione's curse does still hold sway over her.  It's unlikely Ione will be able to attune herself, to this library, and borrow from it, for she does not have time to truly dwell there and learn its stacks; but there is no library book that Ione cannot read, now.

When the Efreeti is done, Pilar is just the same shape as before and nothing about her is larger or smaller, nor would anyone fail to recognize her face at a glance (except maybe Keltham).  But a thousand subtle imperfections are burned away, and her hair is truly the color that she's always Prestidigitated it.  She is not changed away from herself, she is herself perfected, for the Efreet know this to be Art in the crafting of slaves.

Then Pilar calls on her curse's power: and guides herself and Ione to a shop not meant for mortal customers: a merchant Efreeti who honed their fleshcraft through ages long even for Fire, and who now perfects the most cherished slaves of other Efreet.

His craft is a painful one, and Ione shies from it and refuses.

Pilar submits herself to it, to the Efreeti's slight surprise.  She is held down with chains like any other subject, and things done to her that make her scream for real.  It does not quench the thirst inside her, only feeds it.

Ione finds some temporary shelter in a great library while all this is going on; Ione's own Constitution is also Wish-raised and Belt-buffed and she is not tired, but Ione's curse does still hold sway over her.  It's unlikely Ione will be able to attune herself, to this library, and borrow from it, for she does not have time to truly dwell there and learn its stacks; but there is no library book that Ione cannot read, now.

When the Efreeti is done, Pilar is just the same shape as before and nothing about her is larger or smaller, nor would anyone fail to recognize her face at a glance (except maybe Keltham).  But a thousand subtle imperfections are burned away, and her hair is a truer copper-pink than she made it in Ostenso. She is not changed away from herself, she is herself perfected, for the Efreet know this to be Art in the crafting of slaves.