A thousand, thousand legs crawled across my skin; they spilled from my bleeding wounds, poured from my gaping throat, dripped from my open mouth.

Spiders seeped from my skin, venoms both minor and major dripping from their fangs. Wasps whizzed from my wounds, stingers held in the air. Centipedes. Scorpions. Ants. Ticks. Bees. Anything I had been able to find, each and every one of them twisted by whatever phenomena had warped so many of the creatures of the world. A chitinous horde, repurposed as uncountable Risen and stuffed into my nearly-emptied abdomen as a mobile, final line of protection unaffected by the restrictions of [Swap].

They left their hive of flesh, finally free. I gave my Risen only a single command: punish.

I crawled alongside them, the occasional Unified Risen within the horde playing host to my turbulent mind. That was not their purpose; indeed, they were too precious to risk. Still, at that moment, I did not care.

I walked atop my own skin, swam in my own blood, tore from my own tissue.

I raged.

I seethed.

I hated.

I lost myself in the fury and in the furor - the blind need to move, to chew, to tear, to rip, to eat, to punish.

It was all I could do.

After all, my mind was already somewhere else.

My fingers brushed against uncaring stone, leaving trails of blood in their wake. I groaned, garbled words turned unrecognizable by the mass of fluids that filled my mouth and lungs.

Still, I kept moving.

It might have been my last chance.

My fingers swirled against hot, feverish blood, scrawling liquid paths that went nowhere. It was strange, how hot it was. How cold I was.

My fingers scrabbled against rough stone, skin tearing against its callous touch.

Finally, they found what they were looking for.

She was cold, too.

I skittered, I crawled, I flew. The distance thinned as I traveled among the horde, existing as the few among many. Still, we were one.

One in rage. One in grief. One in hate.

I could see her, now.

Her shirt was torn in places, exposing the lily-white skin that I knew so well. Yet even now - even bloody and bruised, even battered and broken - she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

If only she wasn’t so cold.

My breath came out in halting gasps, just as hers did.

I found her hand, clasping it in my own.

It wasn’t much, but I was glad that I could at least be with her in this.

I swam through viscera. I skimmed over blood. I soared past bone.

All to reach my goal; all to reach them. It wouldn’t be long, now.

I choked on the blood that filled my lungs, that spilled from my veins.

Still, I tried my best to stay awake.

I couldn’t leave her alone.

They hadn’t been gentle, had they?

She was doing a little better than I - but a little, only.

That just meant that I would have to hold on a bit tighter, didn’t it?

I walked upon flesh. I crawled upon skin. I settled upon fur.

I opened my many mouths. I commanded many more. They snapped shut.

A man laughed, the sound jarring me back to reality.

“How cute,” he jeered. “Look, they’re holding hands.”

Why were they still here?

His partner snickered. “I don’t know. Why don’t we do something about that?”

Hadn’t they done enough?

A hand reached down, taking our bloody palms in its own.

It pulled us apart.

I chewed. I tore. I bit. I clawed. I ate.

I punished.

We were still close, Mel and I, yet the mere feet that separated us felt like a boundless chasm. I was just too cold to make it across.

It was so, so very cold.

I clasped the man’s hand with my own. It wasn’t like Mel’s. Hers was smooth like satin, wonderful like love itself; beautiful like nothing else.

His was rough. His was horrible. His was ugly.

I hated him.

I wanted him gone.

I wanted him dead.

I heard a scream. It sounded nice.

I wanted to hear more.

I pulled on that tiny spark in the back of my mind - on that small, terrible power that I knew I held.

I had been so excited to be a hero; Mel had been just as excited for me.

It was disappointing when we found what it did. It wasn’t the power of a hero, no matter how desperately I wished it to be.

At that moment, I wasn’t so disappointed.

At that moment, it was just what I wanted.

At that moment, it was just what I needed.

Tears spilled from their eyes. I drank them greedily. It was hard to care.

Had they cared for theirs?

Had they cared for hers?

Had they cared for mine?

The man gasped, trembling within my touch. I could feel his life flow into me, pulled away from wherever it had been stored. It was slow; I was weak. Still, I was determined, if nothing else.

He had taken Mel from me.

So I would take everything from him.

It wasn’t long before it was over.

He fell to the ground, a lifeless, desiccated husk.

They writhed in pain. I writhed in their flesh.

They howled in horror. I had none left.

His partner took issue with that; I could do little to resist, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was reaching him. All that mattered was touching him. All that mattered was killing him - until it no longer needed to matter anymore. His life had become my own.

It had flowed even easier, that time.

My fingers brushed against uncaring stone, leaving trails of blood in their wake. Crimson fluids filled my mouth and soaked my lungs.

Still, I kept moving.

I knew it would be my last chance.

I had to stay awake.

I had to reach her again.

Finally, I did.

They slowed their struggles. They stilled their strife.

With no target left, my own ground to a halt.

I recoiled in horror.

Her skin was cold - so very cold - but it wasn’t the chill that terrified me.

It was the life: tenuous, trembling, tempting.

Terrible.

I tried to turn off my power; it was heedless to my cries.

A hand slipped into my own, twirling its fingers around mine. I recoiled again, life flowing into me once more, trying to let go. She only held on tighter.

I looked at her face: Mel’s bloody, beautiful face.

She smiled.

It was the most perfect thing I had ever seen.

The rage was gone. The hate was sated.

Only grief remained.

“Please, let go. I’m killing you,” I begged. “I can’t stop my power, I can’t turn it off, I can’t -”

She only squeezed tighter, her life continuing to flow into me unabated.

She drew in a breath. It was a gasping, wheezing thing. A dying thing.

“I know,” she whispered. “I’m dying anyway. So, please, just hold my hand as I go.”

Tears fell down my cheeks; she only squeezed tighter.

“Don’t blame yourself for this. You’ll be the greatest hero, I know it. I’ll be watching. You’re already my greatest hero. Now, you just have to show everyone else.”

Her breath rattled, but her smile remained.

“I love you, Eran.”

“I love you, too,” I sobbed, unable to match her beautiful, dazzling smile.

My vision continued to fade. It was becoming harder and harder to stay awake.

“Mel?” I whispered, staring at that wonderful smile, engraving it into my mind.

“Yes?” she whispered back.

“I’ll miss you, you know.” The words came out choked, straining to get past the lump in my throat.

“I know.”

The tunnel closed in. We held on tighter.

Her life spilled into me; it swirled and mixed, becoming a part of me forevermore.

I closed my eyes. I slipped away.

When I woke up, healed and hale, her light was gone - her desiccated hand held in my own.

My light was gone.