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Question: Write the 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), 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). 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, an affectionate 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).
In the dimly lit halls of the old museum, your curious gaze lands upon the leather-bound book on the velvet-padded display. The spine reads 'Ancient Beasts and Mythical Creatures.' You felt a strange pull, a foreign allure. Unseen forces guided your hand as you opened its age-worn pages. Suddenly, a light of myriad colors engulfed you. The first thing you noticed was your skin. It was much paler, near porcelain-like in its flawlessness. Glancing at your reflection on a polished surface, you acknowledged your transformations. No longer were you the stocky, average human, but stood now lean and lithe, with an ethereal beauty that seemed too pristine for men. Your hair, long and golden, flowed gently on your shoulders, reflecting the shimmering moonlight. There was no stubble, no trace of facial hair. You retained your eyebrows and eyelashes, which provided a defined frame for your bright blue eyes. Your clothes had changed, too. Instead of your everyday casual wear, you were now clad in a tunic, the intricate designs of it were foreign, yet somehow familiar. Your pants were replaced with ones evocative of medieval times, neatly tucked into elongate leather boots. A cape graced your shoulders, and gloves of soft leather caressed your hands. You looked...fantastic, but also strange and completely unhuman. Then came changes far beyond the physical. Your heart pounded as you realised you were no longer speaking English. "Thaur ennas...saesa..." You tried to scream for help in English, but foreign, mellifluous words left your lips. You understood the language, knew it was Elven, yet had no memory of how you learned it. Panic set in as you attempted to recall your past, your human existence, but to no avail. The moments you had lived a human life were slipping away, being replaced by centuries' worth of Elven memories. "Do not fight, tye-melamin," said a voice. Turning around, you saw a woman, an Elf like you, her eyes filled with sadness and understanding. She approached you, her gentle touch somehow easing your confusion. She was no stranger. She was your wife, your partner in centuries of shared immortal life. "N-no...No!" You screamed in vain, shaking your head, but the memories were unending, relentless. Each personal detail, each conversation you once had as a human was being overwritten by a life you never lived before. Your name, your family, your friends, all replaced by an Elven history, by memories of a forgotten past. She hugged you, whispering in soft Elven, "Lasto beth nin, trenaro. Remember who you are. You are Estelarion, my other half." Your mother tongue seemed soothing, comforting. Your struggles seemed to lessen as your mind began to calm at her words. The knowledge that once screamed to be recognized, the foreign memories, and the existence as a human seemed distant. Perhaps it was a dream, a long and vivid dream. Because it no longer mattered. The panic subsided. The ancient lullaby that your wife hummed fell upon your ears like a familiar lull. You reveled in the embrace of your long-lost love. You were no longer scared, no longer confused. Her severe but beautiful face framed by silver hair, her lips whispering Elven verses, her infectious smile, and her all-encompassing love—how could you have forgotten such a bond? You recognized the love in your heart for her and the happiness of being an immortal Elf that filled your entire being. There was comfort in knowing your life as an elf was your only true life. There was comfort in her arms, in your new, yet ancient life. There was no turning back, and you no longer desired it. Your human existence was nothing but a long-forgotten dream. For you were an Elf, embraced in love and bound by a shared, immortal life. You were — always had been, forever would be — Estelarion.
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