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Question: Write a POV transformation story of the average male human reader turning into a fantasy elf complete with a tunic, a cape, medieval-styled pants neatly tucked underneath the long boots, leather gloves, pointy elven ears, thin and lean yet athletic body, handsome and ethereal-looking face, no facial hair on the lower half of his face (he keeps his eyelashes and eyebrows however, which are blonde like his head head now), pale skin, beautiful blue irises in his eyes, and long blonde hair (not a Christmas elf, fantasy elf) complete with age change, supernatural powers gain (including but not limited to being immortal and forever youthful), language shift (changing from English to an elven language, yet the reader now completely understood this new language whilst no longer remembering English), reality change (the reader's real world warping and becoming the fantasy medieval world filled with mythical creatures such as elves, goblins (the elves' arch nemesis), dragons, and many more), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personality and memories replaced with an elf's personality and memories, despite his best efforts on fighting off the new memories and personality, making him completely forget about being a mortal human and only remember being an elf). The transformation is permanent (meaning it is forever) and is completely irreversible. The story is that the reader was visiting a museum containing very old books and other historical artifacts, where the reader finds a book that is all about medieval fantasy creatures, he then opens the book, causing the blinding light to engulf him and thus caused the whole transformation to occur. During the mental changes, the reader is truly terrified/horrified about losing his own memories and personality as a human (as well as forgetting his previous language, with English instantly changing to an elven language during mid-sentence), so he tries to fight against the new memories and personality (even screaming for help from his family/friends, crying out in tears, as well as attempting to shake his head as an attempt to get rid of the emerging/invading elven memories/personality), but his mental fight is in vain, making him completely forget his mortal and mundane human life and he only remembers being a medieval-era elf (complete with a new name fitting for an elf, rather than an old human name he once remembered having), having remembered his archery training, war with goblins, marriage to an elven woman, and himself being an elf. To aid in the now-elven reader's transforming mind, an adult female elf from a nearby elven village (who caused the book to transport the reader into a medieval world and transformed into an elf himself) comes up to the reader and comforts him with a gentle hug, softly holding the transforming reader's hands, an affectionate true love's kiss, quietly singing an elven lullaby to the reader, and telling him to remember who he really is (an elf), making the reader realize that the elf woman comforting him is his caring, understanding, and loving wife (whom the elf reader truly loves, cares, and understands, having always known her), and the reader is genuinely happy to know that his previous human life was only a dream (he is completely unaware of ever being a mortal/human) and is happy that his life as an elf (he enjoys being with his elf wife, whom he married centuries ago) is his only true life. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking. Not only that, but there should be quotes in elven language (as well as the translations for those who don't know what those elven words mean), even the reader's language shift during his panic. Also, it is a POV reader story, so it should not be in an author's point of view (my, I, mine, etc), and it should be from the point of view of the reader (you, your, etc).
It’s a typical Saturday afternoon, and you find yourself wandering among the antique halls of an old museum. Antique books and ancient relics are arranged meticulously in glass cabinets and their whispers of forgotten eras draw you in. Your gaze locks onto a particularly interesting display, an old book named "Creatures of Medieval Fantasy." Intrigued, you open it, only for a blinding light to envelop you. Your heart pounds in your chest as a myriad of sensations sweeps over you. The very core of your being feels as if it is being reshaped, taken apart and meticulously put back together. It’s not painful, but it's overwhelming, kind of like a dream where you’re falling, but you never hit the ground. Your fingers twitch, and you look down to see them becoming lean, the skin paling to an almost ethereal shade. As you watch, your arms follow suit, a thin layer of muscle sculpting itself on your forearms. Your casual clothes shift too, replaced by a tunic, a cape swinging from your shoulders. Medieval-styled pants are now neatly tucked underneath your long boots and you can feel leather gloves encasing your hands. Reaching for your face, you feel the sharp point of an elongated ear – elf-like. You hurry to a mirror, eyes widening as you look at the reflection of an ethereal face – handsome, with no facial hair on the lower half, keeping only the well-shaped blonde eyebrows and eyelashes framing startlingly beautiful blue eyes. Your hair has grown long, cascading in golden waves down your back. "Hello?" A voice startles you. You notice immediately it doesn’t sound like English. It’s melodic, like wind rustling leaves. "Ma lanta ûr?" Suddenly your mind lurches. Memories and experiences flood into your consciousness that are foreign and alien, yet they belong to you. You scream. It feels like a tsunami wave sweeping in and sweeping out everything you once were. There's an instinctual urge to fight it; unfortunately, the invasion is relentless, washing over your protests. “NE!” You cry out, tearfully. “I'm... I don’t…” Words fill your mind like cogs fitting into a machine, and you realise you are speaking in a different language now, the words you grew up with swept away like sand. "Na lû e-govaned vîn." A new voice, warm and soft, echoes around. A woman, an elf as ethereal-looking as you had become, steps forward. She extends her gloved hand to you, a small smile gracing her lip. "Believe, meleth." Your heartache soothes a bit when you realize the elven woman comforting you is a familiar presence. Your wife. You are caught off guard when a wave of combined memories and emotions - joy, excitement, love - rushes in. It's easier to imagine that everything was only a dream, none of it was real. And, just like that, the storm passes. A peace takes you, like stepping into a warm, well-suited room. You tremble a bit, perhaps from exhaustion or perhaps relief. The woman - your wife - smiles and you realize that you understand the strange words she spoke. "Meleth - love," you murmur to yourself and, for the first time since this started, you smile back. (Into Elvish translations: "Ma lanta ûr?" - "What are you looking at?", "Na lû e-govaned vîn." - "Until next we meet, friend.", "Meleth" - "Love")
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