It's quiet.
No wind, nothing. Only my own breath and the pounding in my chest. Frantic, but second by second slowing down to a calmer, if still fast, rhythm.
But… I killed her. Shouldn't I be back? Looking around, everything is still muted, hazy… dreamlike. If killing her is not the way back, then what…
...is my face… drying?
It feels… crusty, ugh. And cool. Cold. A layer of something is forming onto it. Solidifying. Is it...
Oh Gods. I gotta open my mouth before --
“Mmphh!”
It's too late! My mouth, my nostrils - they're sealed shut!
Nails! Fuck, no, nails don't do anything! Only screeches, screeches from the scraping. And the air, the air in my lungs, losing its oxygen, turning sour, toxic...
What is this? Joanna's last attempt at vengeance? Some sort of automatic curse? It's already the second time this mask has tried to suffocate me, but at least last time --
Crack!
I gasp. Air. It's back. My face feels warm, normal. The world’s still a blur, but the colors… richer colors… blink. Blink blink blink. Getting clearer. The cabin. Normal colors. Am I back? I can hear something… the wind! I'm back. Gods, thank the Gods.
I collapse to my knees from both exhaustion and relief. The knife drops from my hand, landing next to me on the cool wooden planks. I inhale, exhale, shakily repeat. Blood rushes to my brain and eyes. I'm coming back to life.
Something gleams on the floor. Shards. Golden. Of the mask? Must be. It broke on my face. That was that impact I felt. What caused that? What caused this whole thing? Was this… was this just transition to reality? I… I guess. I mean, the shift to the spiritual plane or whatever it was also had me nearly suffocating, only fitting that...
A sizzle. The shards. They've caught fire. White fire, the same that took Joanna. Does that mean it's ending? Truly ending this time? Yes. Yes! Burn!
“H…hah...hahaha…”
Why that laughter is leaving my body, I don’t know, but it feels appropriate.
The fire consumes the shards and, like smoke, dissipates in the air. The floor below isn't even charred.
It really is over now.
My ears catch the sound of something shifting behind me. I turn my head. It’s Michi, on the bench. She’s trying to get away. But her startled eyes tell me being spotted has stopped that for now.
Right, I still have her to deal with…
I grab my knife, or try to - the first two tries miss, I guess because I’m still a bit out of it. But on the third try, my palm catches the silky hilt, and I’m reunited with my dear partner.
I get up, and -- whoa, whoa, I’m light. I mean, I can feel the weight of each limb, but they’re light as feathers to move. Have I always been this strong?
I catch my reflection in the mirror and study it further. I’m tall. My shoulders, wide, while my waist is narrow… a silhouette so masculine, yet so graceful. And look at that pretty face, pretty hair! By the Gods, I’m beautiful! No wonder HE chose me! I’m perfect!
I take off my gloves and inspect my hands. Such nice hands. I want to feel this reality with them, no fabric in the way.
I turn to Michi. She’s so small. Afraid. And I'm so not that. The contrast is almost tangible.
But, yeah… I guess now I should get the spores and put her under so I can carve the memory erasing seal onto her skin. She’ll have a weird scar and maybe wonder what that is, but nothing should tie it to me. No one will remember Joanna's ghost, save for a few people that may have caught a glimpse, and I'll get away with this just like I've gotten away with all the other murders. Man, it's so easy. Killing people is so easy!
I walk over to the bag, about to zip it open, but stop. After I've drugged her and carved the seal… this'll all be over. I'll just go home and… nothing more. I'll return to my boring life and be right where I started. Nothing gained from this adventure, only a danger patched up.
But just take a look at what you have here. A scared little girl tied up and you feeling like a god. Your bloodthirst still unquenched. You need to get that out of your system. Killing a ghost didn't do it. But how about… a chase?
I study Michi with my eyes, and she answers the gaze with uncertainty and fear. Young child, girl, pink hair. Come on, now, she's a personification of innocence. And you? You kill people. You serve the Lord of Predators. You’re the ideal evil - a concept that doesn't exist to you, but does for a narrative. You like being the bad guy. You love it. You always saw the Big Bad Wolf as something to admire. That's what you wanted to be, powerful and feared. And now you're in the woods, in grandma's cabin. Do you need it spelled out for you?
“Hey, Michi…” I start. My voice is deep. Intimidating. Masculine. I really hit the jackpot with this set of genes! “You know how I said I wouldn't hurt you?”
She recoils.
“No, don't worry, that still stands. I just want to… play a little before we say goodbye.”
With my knife, I saw through the tape binding her shins together. I half expect a kick, but none comes. That's a good girl.
“This is actually great for you, you know,” I say, grabbing the wool-lined hood of her coat, and prompt her to stand up with my knife. I escort her outside and continue.
“What I'm gonna do is let you go. You're going to run, and after a while, I'll come after you. If I catch you, I'll do what I was planning to do and wipe your memory of this whole incident. But if you get away… you get away. And you can tell the world all about what happened here today. Avenge Joanna, if you want to think of it like that. Doesn't that sound great?”
I smile at her, and while the duct tape covers her mouth, I'm pretty sure she doesn't smile back.
I pat her shoulder. “You're a pretty impressive kid, Michi. I trust you to give me a good chase.”
I clear my throat. “Alright. When I say ‘go’ and take my hand off your shoulder, you have my permission - and order - to run like hell. Do you understand?”
She nods, and for the first time in a while, a spark of hope ignites in her eyes. So she still has some of that in her. May it fuel her and guide her way in these dense woods.
I draw in a deep breath. The air is cool, fresh. Still and calm. Before the storm. And now, it’s time.
“Get ready, Michi.”
She tenses up beneath my hand. I tense up, too.
“Three. Two. One...”
The volume of my voice lowers with each word, making the final one barely more than a whisper.
“Go.”
Like a day-old fawn, she stumbles into a trot, then a gallop. I stretch my neck and back. Shed the sheep skin, let the bristly fur breathe. I wait for her to slip between the spruces at the edge of the opening. Then I begin.
Gravel flies at the cabin wall as I kick myself into motion. With a mere few strides, I’m already so fast. I dive into the woods, her pink hair in my sights.
The forest terrain is lumpy and scattered with rocks and roots, but does it slow me down? No. Every step is as stable and secure as a rhino’s, but as speedy and streamlined as those of a cheetah.
But I am no mundane animal. I am a hellhound. Horns crown my head, pointed teeth line my jaws, scalding steam escapes my throat with every exhalation. I am a killing machine. While my prey...
Little feet, little body, so frail. A tiny rabbit, its beady black eyes wide with fear. Too light to even make audible noise as its tiny paws tap the ground, when the hellhound’s thumps can be felt to the bone.
Step, step, step, jump, step, hop, leap, step, step, duck, step. The hellhound knows only three things - the woods, the rabbit and him. Nothing else matters, nothing else exists.
The pursuit goes on and on, but the hellhound gets ever closer to the rabbit. The rabbit wheezes. She weakens already. The hellhound’s fiery breath speaks as it rushes in and out of his lungs. Keep running. Don't you want to live?
Eight meters between the predator and his prey. Seven meters. A stream! She barely makes the jump. Five meters. Four meters. Dodge rock. Three meters. She can tell I’m right behind. Two meters. One meter. Pounce.
She screams.
Teeth clamp around her neck with the biting force of a crocodile. The predator flips her over, then seizes her throat again. She gags. Her limbs flail. In vain. The grip gets tighter. Her blue eyes lose focus. Consciousness is leaving her. The last thing she will feel is pain as the hellhound drains her life to fuel his own.
But hellhounds don’t have hands, do they?
They don’t. Then why are there hands? Wasn’t it supposed to be teeth around her neck, not hands? Wasn’t she supposed to be a fuzzy little rabbit?
She’s not. She’s human. I’m human.
Wait --
The hands relax. I pull them back. The palms feel cool after the warm touch of her skin.
Beneath me lies Michi, motionless. Did I…
Hand shaking, I bring two fingers to her neck.
Thump, thump. Okay, she's not dead. She's just unconscious. Unconscious from… strangulation. By me.
But I… wasn't supposed to do that. I wasn't supposed to strangle her. And certainly not to death, as I just seemed to be doing. I was supposed to drug her and carve the seal… wait. Drug...
I left my bag back at the cabin. I wouldn’t have even been able to drug her. Did I totally forget? Was I thinking… at all?
Well, I… I guess she’s passed out now anyway, so I should just make the seal. I’m pretty sure I remember it. I unsheathe my knife and grab Michi’s right wrist, pulling back the sleeve of her coat.
But the red marks on her neck won't stop staring at me.
Those won't disappear in just a few minutes, will they? No, they'll become worse if anything. Bruises. Bruises that perfectly fit my hands. Could they even have my fingerprints?
Well, that won’t even matter if they won’t stop until they catch the perp, and since this is a child, they won’t. They’ll sniff at any and every clue they’ve got to get their justice. Even if I were to drag this corpse to that stream we crossed a while back and washed her neck clean of any skin cells I might have shed on it, even if I took my knife and carved off that skin entirely --
Saliva floods my mouth at the image. No, no! Am I still so thirsty for blood? Did that strangling do nothing for me? Can I not be satisfied by anything less than a proper kill?
What prevents me from having one now?
No, no, no. I couldn't do that here. Way too messy. But couldn't all traces be wiped by a disintegration circle? No, I can't count on that - blood might seep deeper into the earth, for one, and the stench of her insides would stick to me… not that a circle would even fit here, either. Too many trees. But I will have to make one anyway - I can't let her live, not with those marks on her neck. I have to dispose of her body. I just… have to find some spot open enough for the circle to fit, first. And I better make sure she doesn't wake up in the meantime and needlessly complicate things…
I take out my knife and - after fending off the urge to gut her right there and then - cut a piece of duct tape from the bind around her ankles. I glue it onto her nostrils as best as I can, lift her up the same way as before and try my best not to topple over. Sturdily enough on my two feet, I bring her back the way I came, eyes constantly scanning for an opening near the path.
Through my rapid breaths, I pick up a strange aroma. It's sweet, like peaches. Is it coming from Michi? Why… why would she smell this sweet? Is it perfume? No, I never smelled it earlier! But I can't help my curiosity - if this is how she smells, how would she t-
An opening! There! Finally. I sprint to reach it and drop the girl in the middle. She lands roughly, but she's as good as dead already, it doesn't matter. Her head turns to the side, exposing her neck again, and my teeth, my teeth want to bite into it…
No, remember, way too messy. You can't do it. You can't…
But what if just a little? Just a little taste? If her scent is so sweet, her blood, her blood must be even sweeter. Just a little taste. Make sure no blood hits the earth. That's possible. That's quick. Just a little taste.
I pull back the sleeve of her left arm. Her wrist is so thin, her arm so dainty, her skin so pure… but force of habit makes me swipe it a few times anyway.
I take my knife and - this is it. I place its tip between the flexor tendons and press.
As the blade sinks in, red nectar surfaces. The smell surges. Yes, more. I drag the tip downward, cleaving the skin further. More blood. It’s so vibrant. It almost glows. It begins to drip --
No, I can’t let it drop off. It’d be incriminating - and I don’t want a droplet of it to go to waste…
I lean in, brushing the skin with my lips, gathering the blood. As soon as it spreads to my taste buds, my inhibitions vanish. I cover the wound with my mouth entirely.
The taste of blood... the salty taste of life, of pain, of death… there was a time it sickened me, as it usually does for humans, but HE changed that. There’s no nausea, no gag reflexes when it comes to this substance. What replaced it was an overwhelming urge to touch it, feel it, consume it.
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I close my eyes and jut my tongue deeper into the incision, feeling the forms of the tendons. The warmth of this flesh... it ignites a flame in my heart. It drills my nails deeper into her skin. It gets me draining, sucking out the sacred fluid, quenching the hellhound’s thirst.
Hot. Vivid in color. Rich in flavor. The beauty of this blood, this moment, can’t be explained in any logical way - it’s a rose, a fire in the night, the rising moon, the spring morning. But most importantly, it’s…
HIM.
The divinity is unmistakable. HE is in this hunt, HE is in this feast. HE is right beside me, approving, advocating. This is HIS bidding I am doing. I am HIS vessel, embodiment. I am the gorge through which HIS river flows, the fuel with which HE burns...
Red.
I freeze.
Did I imagine that? Or did HE really…
No, that’s impossible. HIS vessel is all the way back at the basement, and that’s where HIS spirit is tethered to. Last time I asked, HIS powers could only properly reach a dozen meters away --
But this is not last time.
My breath halts.
My lord… is that really YOU?
Yes, my priest. It is I.
My breath breaks free from its restraints and gallops like a runaway stallion. HIM… here. Several kilometers from home. The only way HE could have gained so much power in that little time is if --
Yes.
Everything has quieted. The wind, the distant traffic, all of it. All I hear are HIS words.
Ascension is here.
Ascension.
The merging of man and god.
The beginning of a new era. The return of the Helixian kingdom. The rising of the wolves above the sheep.
Now?
Now.
I… I don’t know how to react. I mean…
Simply open your eyes and witness.
Open my eyes…
I wish that was as easily done as said. Just parting my eyelids, what’s the problem? Well, it’s the earthshaking terror that, when I do open those eyes, I see nothing. I see the woods and Michi’s body and myself on the ground and nothing else. That this’ll have been some kind of waking dream and nothing more. Another… another delusion like the one that left me strangling that girl against all my intentions. More proof that I’m not stable anymore. Not sane anymore. That I won’t make it until the real ascension, whenever that would come. If it would even come...
Red.
I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to doubt YOU! But is it really YOU? I guess asking that’s also doubting, but, my lord, I’d hate to worship a false image, a-and I just don’t think I can be sure --
Red, open your eyes. I promise I will be there.
I pause to catch my breath before either lack or excess of oxygen scrambles my brain even further.
HE promises to be there. HE has never lied to me before. But whether this is an illusion… only by facing it fully can I know for sure.
Trembling, I force my eyelids apart.
I see Michi’s hand still in my grasp. I see dead needles and gravel on the ground beneath my knees.
Nothing unusual yet, but I am just staring at the ground.
I withdraw my tongue from the girl's wound and swallow whatever blood is left in my mouth. I put her arm down gently. More blood emerges from the flesh, threatening to overflow in a matter of seconds - but confirming this ascension's authenticity will only take a glance.
I place my hands on the ground for stability and look up.
A tall, bearded man of white robes and bronze skin stares back, a gentle welcome in his golden eyes.
It's real.
I wheeze in elated relief, throwing myself on the ground before him so fast I almost hit my head.
"There is no longer need for that," the man says, his voice as deep as always. "WE shall soon be as equals."
WE. The word is pure ecstasy. HIM and I, as one and the same. HIS soul and mine, sharing my flesh.
"Arise, my priest."
I needn't be told twice. I get up and nearly dust myself off before remembering there's no longer any need. Dirt, clothes... a god has no need to worry about any such trivialities.
The man - in other words, HE in the form of the first Helixian king, Kohath - steps to me. One would expect an aura of intimidation from a frame like his, but instead, he radiates benevolence. Like a loving father. Or how I'd imagine one to feel, anyway.
He extends a hand and places it onto my cheek. The warmth of his palm melts away all tension in my body. I lean into his caress. He strokes my skin softly with his thumb, and I find myself so relaxed I can barely keep my eyes open.
"You have served me well," he murmurs, his voice pouring over me like molten caramel. "And now, you have even surpassed yourself - offering to me such a young, fragile specimen."
What does he mean? Michi? I guess I killed her… yeah, I guess I killed a child… it wasn't for HIM, but HE can certainly have her if HE so wishes.
"To butcher a child means to embody the ruthlessness of a true predator," Kohath continues. "One more than qualified to remake the Helixian Kingdom."
His hand slides down my cheek onto my neck and travels along my arm. Having reached my hand, he takes it into his own, fingers interlocked. His other hand he slips into my hair at the back of my head. His warmth draws me onto him like a magnet - and while I flinch at my loss of control, he makes no motions to reject me. I can hear the beating of his heart, and it’s perfectly calm. The exact opposite of the drumroll in my own chest.
"Now,” he whispers - his breath like wind rustling autumn leaves - “the moment has come to meld US into one."
The space between his hand and mine lights up, glowing a soft white. It’s hot, but it doesn’t hurt - in fact, it’s somewhat pleasurable. The glow spreads across his hand, following the veins as if flowing through them.
I wince as a sudden pain slashes across my palm, but Kohath’s embrace stays gentle. A warmth enters my hand through the wound I suppose has formed, and it too begins to seep up my veins - with that same glow. Meanwhile, his hand… begins to dissolve, depleting as the light spreads further.
He really is flowing into me. He really is merging his body with mine. I’m going to… have HIM inside me, fully. HE will conquer every blood vessel, every cell’s cytoplasm. HE will… saturate me. I will become one with HIM. I will inherit HIS power. HIS control over everything. Anything material and anything immaterial. Existence. My existence. I can become what I want. I can think and feel how I want. I can banish any pain, any dread, any sorrow. I can feel euphoria unimaginable by any mortal. And… and I will never have to die.
The light continues its spread. It crawls up my arm, digging into the muscles and pumping them full of strength unprecedented anywhere in the animal kingdom, unmatched by the strongest of men. This is what just a little part of HIM feels like. HIS full, unfiltered power would surely fry my mortal brain, pop it like a lightbulb burning out - but fortunately that light will soon reach my head, my very consciousness, and elevate my existence to an entirely new level.
The only thing I'll miss - no, I won't miss anything after I've ascended. What I hate to give up now, while corporeal sensations still matter, is this moment.
The light of divinity tingling in my veins. The warmth of Kohath’s embrace, his hand still in my hair. But most important of all is the knowledge that it’s all over. All worry, all strife. No more sleepless nights, no more empty days. No need to hide my true self, no need to fear getting caught. I’m free, free and safe. Safe from the police, witnesses, shrinks, judges, prison, death.
Happiness is no longer embedded in stone, needing to be clawed out with fingers bleeding. Instead, everything, every single thing... is finally alright.
I close my eyes and cradle my head on Kohath’s shoulder. I can let each of my muscles relax. HE has rewarded me not only with my deepest wish, but my unspoken desire - simply to be --
He yanks my head back by the hair. I open my eyes to find some answer on his face --
There is no face. There are only eyes, predator’s eyes gleaming yellow, and pitch black flames where his body used to be.
His glare drills into my soul.
AS IF YOU WOULD EVER BE ENOUGH.
He shoves me down. I expect to meet his chest, but go right through - there's nothing but air where he used to stand. I break my fall with my palms, sharp little stones in the gravel digging into my skin.
I look up, I look to my sides, I look behind me - but he's nowhere to be seen.
Only pines, spruces, needles, gravel, Michi's motionless body and myself.
"My lo-"
I don't even need to finish the sentence to realize I'm talking by myself.
I…
I don't get it. Why would HE come all the way here just to…
Oh. No. I understand now. It wasn't real. None of it was.
So in… in reality I'm… I'm still mortal. HE… hasn't expressed HIS readiness to ascend yet. HE still needs to wait for HIS powers to gather. I still need to wait…
...wait, wait, wait. I always have to wait. Just a little more, I tell myself, but a day goes by, a week goes by, a month, a year --
Grains of sand prick me under my fingernails as I form a fist around the gravel. I clench it tighter and tighter, driving the stones deeper into my palms. Hot tears squeeze their way out of my ducts and slip into the thousand creases formed by my agonized face.
I don't wanna go back. I don't wanna go back. I don't wanna go back to the fear. I don't wanna go back to the fear of all this being for nothing, that I've been tricked or that I'm insane, that I remember HIS words wrong, that there is no salvation and all I've done is throw away so much time from what precious little life I have --
No, don't even think it. If you think it, it might be real. You might make it real. You might see that there is no way out of this prison, this lifelong death row, the void that awaits when the brain dies and your thoughts die and you have no way left to make sense of the --
Why? Why was this done? Why were we created? Why give us souls? Why put spirit into these machines, why -- are you proud, Third Being? Are you proud of it? This dance you make everyone do -- does it amuse you? Why does a god need to --
I roll onto my side and hug my shins. Like a child. I wish I was still a child. I didn't think as much back then. I was…
I look at Michi over my shoulder. Yeah, I was like her. I sought adventure, experiences, mysteries… and every day I would learn something new. Each dawn had promise, and the world was full of possibilities.
But now I'm an adult and I know that what I am and what the world is don't mesh. I can't go to school, I can't get a job - I learned that years ago, and what happened at the supermarket today undeniably only highlights that. So all I can do is wait. Spend each day sitting at home, slowly drowning in the lack of things to do.
That's my life.
Wait, shit!
I scramble up to my feet and glance around. Luckily, no one’s there, but -- how could I forget? How could it slip my mind that I need to get rid of -- no, don’t even waste time ruminating on that, get to work!
A branch, I need a branch… there’s one, that’ll do. I leap back to Michi and begin to draw the circle, fetching the details of the patterns from my memory and scratching them into the ground, checking them, double checking them… I think it’s finished. All it needs now is activation.
I pull out my knife and prick the tip of my little finger. A droplet of blood emerges slowly, like a reptile slithering out into the spring morning after a long hibernation, and I flick it down into the little circle at the edge of the ring. As soon as the grooves light up with a matching red glow, pang of regret seizes my heart.
It doesn’t want Michi erased. It wants to keep her. She was extraordinary, she should be preserved. But I can’t. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t keep her around for a second longer - each second is a second closer to getting caught. She needs to go. I can’t even take a part of her, too bloody. Even her clothes would be suspicious. But why not --
I lunge at her and grab a lock of her pink hair. As soon as I’ve cut it free, I leap back out of the circle and take a few extra steps just to be sure. The light has spread halfway through the ring. I still had time to spare, but simply knowing what would’ve happened had I gotten caught within makes my heart pound.
In deafening silence, the light completes its journey around the circle and brightens. A membrane of that same washes over the contents of the circle - little Michi’s lifeless body. I take care to burn the image of her into my mind, diligently staring up until the --
Flash.
It hurts my eyes and forces them shut, but at least I can rest assured I fully caught her final moments.
Now she’s gone, and only the pattern remains. A pattern I’ll also have to erase…
No better tool readily available, I kick the ground with my shoes until the pattern has vanished completely. Only then can I catch my breath, sit back down and let my muscles go limp.
I close my eyes for some semblance of rest, but it’s not long before my mind returns exactly where it left off. That void is still there, staring at me, waiting for the moment my life comes to an end so it can swallow me whole. The bottomless pit under this bridge I’m trying to cross, a little tumbledown rope bridge that goes on and on, and all I can do is keep walking in the hopes that somewhere beyond the fog there’s solid ground, my salvation, but just as well it could end in nothing but two endless wooden poles keeping it up, and so I find I was bound to go down no matter what...
No, this is stupid. Nothing’s really changed, has it? Nothing between the start of that… hallucination and the end of it had an effect on my life. So why should I be freaking out? Couldn’t I just go on living like I did before?
But can I? If a simple trip to the store almost ended in a bloodbath today, what about tomorrow? Will my urges get the better of me and drive me to make whatever fantasy slithers into my mind into a reality, completely blind to the consequences? Then they’ll shoot me dead or lock me up somewhere until death comes… and permanently ruin any chances I have of ascension.
Maybe I should…
No. I can’t bring this up with HIM. I’ve been stretching HIS patience too much already. HIM taking over in the last sacrifice was a good sign, sure, but I know HE still expects me to cast the cat out of my heart, and the progress on that has been little to none. Were I to come to HIM with yet another problem with my mind, HE might… HE might revoke my status as Bringer. HE might even consider me unfit to be any kind of predator, and then… I’d be slaughtered like all the other sheep.
Even if HE brushed off my doubts and pain as just side effects to being a predator in this world for prey, HE would likely ask for another sacrifice. I’d fail to get one properly in my current state, and then I’d practically be no better off than in the other scenario.
I sigh. So I’m on my own. It’s not like there’s anyone other than HIM I can talk to about this. And it’s not like they’d understand even if I did. They’d just call me crazy and tell me to get some mental help --
The psychiatrist. Could she possibly...
No, no, no! You can’t let anyone know. Are you honestly naive enough to believe them when they say what’s discussed is confidential? If you told that psychologist how much you want to cut people open and play with their organs, you’d be dragged over to the nuthouse before nightfall. In what world would a society of mice willingly keep a cat around?
Faced with another dead end, I open my eyes and let the features of the sky take over my mind for a change. The pleasant blue, the tufts of white, the invisible wind they drift around on…
It’s strange how calm they make me.
Why, if I had the ability to fly to the clouds in the blink of an eye and look down upon the world, breathing the thin, freezing air without harm, my problems with rage would vanish. Seeing humans for the ants they really are… why would I care about anything they have to say?
Wait. What’s stopping me now?
I am a human. An intelligent creature. Perhaps previously in a more primal stage emotions were necessary to guide us into better survival strategies, but now we can understand the world around us. We can make decisions based on logic, not raw emotions.
It's precisely what HE teaches as well. Primitive social instincts have outlived their usefulness. What used to help keep tribesmembers alive and offspring cared for has been made obsolete by rational thought. Now all it can do is stay in our way. It prevents us from letting the inferior die. It prevents us from consuming each other's flesh when starving. It stifles our progress in service of made up moralities, rules that no god truly enforces.
But I happen to be one of the lucky few to have been born as the next stage of human evolution. A being that can see through these illusory rules and act without care for them. An efficient being. A free being. And if I have the freedom to choose how I think, why couldn’t I choose to drop the emotions that harm me and keep the emotions that give me strength? Peace, joy, relief… an existence knowing only these feelings can't be that bad to live.
Then again... if it were that easy, I would have done it ages ago. In reality, my lack of control was bad enough to make me give up on school and, by extension, any kind of normal future. I had to leave before I did something that would’ve made things even more difficult for myself...
Leave. Give up. That’s what I did. I ran away from the problem. And have I ever faced it head-on since? No. Ever since I left school, I’ve only avoided social interaction to the best of my abilities.
No wonder I only seem to have gotten worse. I’ve had no practice. No exposure to strengthen my immune system, so to speak. As much as I hate to admit it, getting out there might just be what I need. Socializing. Disguising myself as simply another human. It is a trait a predator must have, lest he be torn apart by the herd he is infiltrating.
Yeah. I need to get myself into situations I’ve shied away from and learn to maintain a calm exterior no matter how fiercely I want to rip them all apart. Handle things as a gentleman would, even. Convince the others I’m a stand-up guy. It could help to dispel suspicion, too! And, hell - if nothing else, it’ll be something to do. Beats sitting bored at home.
Though, ironically enough… I think home is the place I’d most like to be right now. It’s been one hell of a day, and I could really use some rest after this whole… thing. And some food, actually. Blood isn’t exactly filling.
I get up. The wind in the trees enters my consciousness again, and it drives me to draw a deep breath of the fresh air around me. I feel my lungs expand, then deflate. Again. A serene rhythm of back and forth, like waves on a shore. All while the heart beats with a pace of its own, pumping that wondrous, hot blood throughout the body.
I guess this corporeal form is one thing I can be happy about. Not only did I luck out on my genes, I’ve brought out their full potential with diligent training. I’m quite close to the best a meager human can be. Once I add a few enhancements post-ascension, I’ll be perfect.
That’s right. I will ascend. Maybe it will end up taking another week, another month, another year - but I will persevere, only honing myself further during the wait.
I step forth as if facing the entire world, head held high and pride burning in my chest. Within my mind, I shout from the mountaintop:
I am the Bringer, and I will let nothing stand in my way.