We took the streets from the untainted humans. Their word, not ours. I’m an abomination— my flesh was changed from what I was given at birth. Like me, this city will be unrecognizable. More than what it was. Along with every other creature of the Night, I’ve climbed skyscraper after skyscraper destroying the last of the light that poured through the long windows of the top floors. As I crushed handholds and footholds into their delicately designed buildings, burning flesh filled my nostrils and with it came the fury. There’s no stopping it. I am called Draelin and there’s no stopping me.
The window shattered around me and I was inside. The heat of the light on my skin, and their screams fed my fury. The group trembled. Their humanity and their quaint little breaths were at an end like the city as they knew it. As they needed it.
I needed something else.
Only one shocked human remained… No wavering, she was solid and something in her eyes broke through the fury.
“Deacon, you don’t have to do this. It’s not too late,” Her voice was strong but tired, at the end of her wits.
“My name is Draelin,” I snapped, “I’m not you— I’m not afraid of change,” Pride was new then, a gift bestowed along with my new flesh.
I watched her shut her eyes and I thought, How did she remember me?
She spoke that name again, “Deacon.”
I slashed through the air at her with my heavy hands, the fingers on my right side were mostly claws.
“Draelin,” She corrected herself, “revenge is not the answer. We didn’t do this to you.”
“I don’t know you,” I lied. She was important to Deacon, not Draelin.
She opened her eyes and tears sped down her cheeks.
“I suggest you leave. Maybe if you make it down fast and far enough you can learn to hide. Either way, the Night has won.”
As I turned away from her, she said, “Has it?”
Her footfalls hurried in the distance, as I approached the small generator that powered their lives. It used to power mine but since the change I’ve been focused elsewhere. I stood there, feeling the heat from the light and I knew I would see her again.
I bore my claws and tore through the generator. The machine whimpered as it died. I heard cheers of triumph from all around me. The creatures of the Night celebrated, feasting throughout the spreading darkness and while I was a part of it all, I had knowledge no one else had. I knew, the light wasn’t dead.

The Dawn of Dissociation

Everything fades into the farthest reaches, there is only my eyes and what they’ve focused upon. The horizon expands, I am a witness to the birth of a mountain. It rises before my eyes, as if it were made for me.

The rigid edge clashes against the smooth morning blues and the approaching sun retaliates, springing forth splashes of pink and orange like sweet candy flames. The newborn mountain pays no mind to the empty attempts of the apathetic dawn. It seems to call to me, to tell me that it is our turn now, finally.

I’m more aligned with the dawn–things rarely feel final.

The rigid way of the mountain creases itself and completes the peak, as if it’s following my lead. The other side falls, quickly, creating a smoother slope. Perhaps the mountain knows the return trip always seems to pass quicker. The difference between chopping wood and buttering toast.

I feel a change… or is it fear?

The rigid is assaulted, becoming more so and then–light. The mountain explodes from the center, out. It’s an enormous flash that erases everything into orange then fading into pale yellow, until the white takes over. I’m blind. Or is the dream simply over?

Rising out of the depths of me, as if the blindness is the human equivalent of a shuffle button, I feel something. It’s smooth and round, my hand grips it with my fingers wrapping around. My wrist turns and I understand what it is. I open the door…