The wind whistles through my scales as I soar through the sky, free at last. Despite months of no use, my wings know exactly what they need to do. As they carry me forward, a wave of strength and liberty surges through my body, destroying the last pieces of doubt and hatred I cling onto. The sky is contaminated by dark gray clouds threatening rain, just the way I like it. Lightning flashes every once in a while, followed by the rumble of thunder.

I used to be afraid of flying with the threat of lightning. It was dangerous. The quickest way to die. But that was before I learned how to master the storm. And now, the lightning is mine.

My wings cut through the sky as I spot the tip of a mountain slowly rising in the distance. It is the flight that matters more to me than the destination, just as it always has been. But I turn to land regardless, feeling the heart-racing sensation of freedom and power beginning to fade away.

My feet land against the rocky terrain of the mountain top, and my body begins to shift until I'm standing upright, my wings merely a shadow of their full glory. I glance around, stretching my arms. The static in the air around me is thick on my nose, so palpable I can practically reach out and touch it. The wind is still strong, playing with my hair and my clothing as I begin my descent down the side of the mountain.

I search for the tune that hides in the back of my mind, taunting me as I fall short again and again. Frustration ripples through me like waves. Where is the song? Why can't I reach it? I know it's there, in the back of my mind, but it won't come to me when I need it most.

The sound of my boots against the old stone reverberates against the mountain side, only somewhat a melody, but it'll have to do for now.

Power guides my steps down the mountain, the knowledge that I am the strongest thing in the thousands of worlds to ever exist. I open my wings wide, displaying that strength in the flashes of light that illuminate the webbing like a thunderstorm trapped inside of them.

But still, my hand reaches for the scythe clinging to my back. And I stop in my tracks, glancing around; I bare my teeth. I can feel their minds pressing against mine, their pointless hopes and their endless worry crashing through me. A bolt of lightning hits the sky at my frustration.

"I know you're there," I hiss, scythe warm and unusually heavy in my hands. "There's no point in hiding from me."

I hear their voices, dropped to a whisper. I can't make out what they are saying, but it doesn't matter. Predator doesn't need to know what prey thinks before it strikes.

"Fine," I say, flaring my wings. "I'll come looking for you." I always have appreciated a good challenge.

And that's when the thought breaks through.

Don't cry.

It takes me a second to understand. It isn't my own, and I know exactly who is repeating the mantra the moment it faded away. I stop in my tracks, mouth open, before I shake myself out of my daze and continue forward.

"I don't want to do this, you know," I yell. "I really don't want to have to get my hands bloody today. I'm not in the mood. Why don't you just come back later?" I ask, following the flares of their fear and their anger.

They've hidden away, turned themselves invisible, but it isn't enough to completely disguise themselves from me.

"Well?" I call, my voice practically yelling over the whistling of the wind as it surges past.

Don't cry.

The thought breaks into my head again, pushing itself against me with full force. Enough to make me stumble forwards a little. I spin, trying to pinpoint where it came from, but it's everywhere and nowhere all at once. I try to shake it away, but it clings onto me tightly, long after it had been plucked from the air.

"Show yourselves!" I snarl.

And then, from right behind me, a flicker of slight panic pulls at my mind. I spin, my scythe glinting in the lightning that chooses then to strike.

There he stands, a figure barely visible against the darkened clouds. I grip the weapon tighter as I lower myself into a ready position.

The Aspis stares at me, and if I look, I can see that he's shaking. Slowly, he raises his sword. "I don't want to fight you, Thomas!" he yells.

That's all the hesitation I need.

A bolt of lightning spears the sky, directed straight for him. He manages to disappear just in time, but I wasn't aiming for him anyway. It's the fear I desire. The crack of thunder that follows is instantaneous, but as used to it as I am, it's nothing short of freeing.

I could taunt him, just as I do with all my other enemies. I could make his death slow and painful so he can feel every last bit of hatred I have. But the thing is, I don't hate him. Not in the slightest. It's just another thing that has to be done. Another person who had to fall in order to end this, once and for all.

"I don't want to kill you, Thomas!" the foreigner calls from behind me. I spin in the time it takes for one of my lightning bolts to brush the sky. My throat tightens as he stands there, sword raised despite the words that have left his mouth. We both know that even if he was being honest, he would still take that final blow no matter what.

"Of course not," I return grimly, raising my head.

A large stone comes flying towards me, and I cleave it in two just before it hits. The pieces fall to my sides. And as he throws himself at me, sword poised to strike, I fall into that same old routine. Lunge, dodge, strike, step. Instincts consume me, blinding my reasoning, drowning out all thoughts, until it's nothing but me, the weight of my scythe, and the static of the lightning that follows my movements. It's all I need at the moment, just the intuition guiding my movements with deadly precision. And for a moment, I'm winning. The Aspis is strong—he always was—but he's no match for the pure chaotic power of a thunderstorm.

Until I feel that presence prying at the edges of my mind. I freeze involuntarily, my wings beating hard to keep myself in the air, scythe still pointed at my attacker. The Aspis steps back, clutching his weapon. Blood is rushing down his face from one of my attacks, but he still grins.

A chill runs down my body, but it's welcome, gentle. I want to hold onto it, to never let it go, to give into it, but a part of me snaps and struggles against the invasive mind that caused it.

It's so familiar, so close. So impossible to ignore. I hiss, falling to the ground as it continues its attack.

"Thomas?" the voice echoes through my mind, lingering long after the last one has disappeared. My scythe comes clattering to the ground. The Aspis looks at me, his eyes soft with a look I absolutely hated.

"Get away from me!" I scream, not too different from a cornered animal. Is that all I am? Just an animal?

"Relax, Thomas. We're here to help you. Please..."

He's so close, so soft. My vision turns blurry. I think I can hear chatter, but it's distant. Too far away to make out. Perhaps I am imagining it in the first place. All I want to do is hold onto him and never let go again. To give into the darkness that comes seeping up.

I shoot to my feet as the Aspis approaches, ignoring the pain that echoes through my bones in response. Staggering backwards, I search the mountainside while trying to get away from my attacker. I try to flex my wings, but they don't respond, and panic blinds me. My energy has been ripped away from me. "What did you do?" I scream, feeling the tingle of my skin turning to scales against my arm.

"Don't worry, Thomas," the voice continues through my mind. I wonder if he knows what he is doing to me. And if he did, would he stop? "We're here to help you. Just relax. Give in."

Desperate, I turn to my last option, and try my best to Change. But just like everything else, I have lost control. The Aspis is right on me now, holding a vial up, as though he is offering it to me. I strike out with my hands, hitting him right across the face. He takes a step backwards, blood welling on the wound.

I glance down, panting. My fingers are long and sharp. Claws.

"It's okay, Thomas. We're here to help you."

"I don't need your help!" I spit back, though I'm not sure if it's out loud or not. I see him, staring at me softly. His head is tilted, as though he's waiting for something. He's every bit as perfect and wonderful as I remember, which makes him a hundred times more dangerous.

The thought breaks through again, two words I can't get rid of no matter how hard I tried.

Don't cry.

A feeling swells inside of my heart. It brings down my toughest walls, betraying me. The word comes out in a choked whisper, as any louder, and I know it would splinter me. "Alexander."

He cocks his head up, eyes wide.

I reach out for him, unsure of what I am doing or why I am doing it.

A last surge of hope sparks in the bottom of my chest, and it is extinguished as quickly as it comes.

And darkness sweeps over me.