Number eight and I dig it.


Story:

He never backed down from a challenge. No matter what it was. So when his bros dared him to jump through that shiny blue vortex, he jumped as if he had been in the army and they were named Hartman.

And even when he stood in the desolate coldness that was The Fade, his spirits were still on top. A new adventure he thought. Just like those fantasy movies where the unlikely hero finds his true destiny in a realm unknown.

But oh, how destiny can turn around and screw you over. This wasn't his time to rescue the village and rid the evils of the land.

At first, terror struck when mild discomfort struck him over the skin of his hands and feet. And when his vision reached the purple razors that were forming, he could believe that something, if not everything was wrong.

The bones in his feet shifted and changed proportions. The outermost pair of toes shrunk away just like his pinky. But what he lost in dexterity he gained in size and strength as his general frame grew almost three heads taller. Most notably was his gargantuan forearms which could easily snap the necks of elephants.

He could feel something else too. Something not quite physical, not quite imaginary. It had a conflictingly warm chill to it. Protruding from his back, but also emanating throughout every fibre.

She had been forced the form of a true predator. Legs that could jump miles and horns that no wall could withstand. But her fear was gone.

As her clothes fused to her and a razor equipped tail grew, she understood that hers was not the role of the hero.

She stood quietly, contemplating this. Was it the truth? That evil was impossible to vanquish and her hopes for a valiant name was futile. That evil and good are meaningless terms proposed by mortals to rationalize their own behaviour? Could it be that she was above all that and that she could never do any good unless she accepted everyone for their flaws and grew to love and respect them, not despite those flaw, but for them?

No. Of course not. She knew better than all of that. She knew that this world had only one fate. And that was to burn under her wings. She saw weakness in compassion. She felt envy grow when she witnessed strength.

This world had good in it, no doubt. And it deserved nothing more than to be snuffed out.

Not for her pleasure. But for her unending rage.