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Question: Write a POV transformation story of an 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).
Strolling through the vast corridors of the museum, your gaze soon falls onto an ancient book encased in glass. Something about it draws you in. The book is about mythical beings, in it a chapter dedicated to elves resonates deeply with you. Curiosity piqued as you reach out to turn the pages of the book, you—now alone in the quiet museum— nearly drop it when a blinding flash of light suddenly engulfs your vision. An odd sensation washes over you; your clothes changing, tunic replacing your shirt, your pants now hinting towards a medieval era, the ends tucked neatly into long, strong boots. Thrusting a hand into your hair, you're stunned to feel thick waves of hair, no longer short but long and silky. Bringing your hand into view, you notice lean, vambric fingers encased in leather gloves, your skin now an ethereal pallor. Your casting a look onto your reflection displayed in a nearby silver-plated artifact gives you a startle; you no longer recognize the face staring back. Pointy ears protrude from your long blonde hair, and your average male features have altered into something inhumanely beautiful. Crystal blue irises shout out foreign grace, the handsome, strange man in the mirror cocking his eyebrows — the only familiar feature remaining... yet they now glow of a light blonde, matching your hair. Suddenly, an immediate, nagging sense of overwhelming intrusion fills your mind. Your head throbs painfully, your hand involuntarily shoots to your temple, the sensation so sudden and strong, you barely register the falling book. Trying to reach out and steady yourself, your eyes snap shut as the voices, the memories, the entire alien language demands to be heard, the English words you were thinking moments ago fading away, replaced by sweet elven tongue. "Help, someone please help m—" Your pleas are cut short, and horror consumes you as your words transform mid-sentence, "...irívë, hiril nín helië..." Your pleas for help had transitioned into the elegant Elvish language, and even though you understand what you're saying, it fills you with terror. Images of peaceful valleys, elegant castle halls, training with the bow, and battling goblins rush through your mind. The joyous memory of an elven woman in beautiful, medieval clothing, your heart throbs at seeing her — your wife. You force your eyes open, meeting the ice-cool blue that stare back at you from the reflective artifact. "This is not me," you desperately try to remind yourself, clutching your head to silence the memories threatening to overthrow your own. Suddenly, a light touch – as sweet as moonlight – softly lands on your shoulder, a soothing lullaby floating through the heavy air. Turning you around, your breath hitches in your throat at the elegantly beautiful elven woman you've seen in your fleeting memories. She approaches, wrapping her delicate arms around you, her voice hushing your pleas, "Melamin, maruvan sinomë ar ortë, ante sinomë ar cuivë," she sings gently, a mother's comfort in her voice, reminding you, you belong here, you'll always be safe here. My love, you'll stay here and rise, take breath here and live. Her tender touch, her sweet lullaby is a balm on your swirling emotions, her love and gentle words calms you. Other memories cascade into your mind, her laughter, her smell, the happiness you've shared – her. Your heart surges at the memories tied to her. This is it, the final thread holding you to your humanity snaps. These are your memories, your life. She is your wife. She is your truth. She, and this elegant world, offering you immortal youth and endless beauty, encompassing you with magic you'd never dreamed of – akin to the relic you now understand was mere knowledge to be gleaned. The realization settles in you, warming you. The echoes of your human life recede one last time, before fading away entirely. Taking a deep breath, you clutch your wife, your memories, and elven elegance a little tighter. "Na erin ú-celeb, melamin," you whisper against her ear, forgetting the turmoil you just passed through. It wasn't important. For, you were never a man. You were an elf.
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