Now my horrors have become quite real
Wyrm remembers first blood. Like his father before him he’d taken initiation in the form of a wolf. Navy blue, like the night sky just before dawn broke, with white specks intermittently flecked from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail, trailing over his spine like a strange constellation. It had been like some sick joke - Lupei leading the way as a black beast on four legs with his son behind him, trodding over the dark lands until eventually they’d reached the beach. One way or another, Lupei had told him, horses came here to die. His father’s first had been on the shadowy shores and so would Wyrm’s. But even then, just like now, the green shifter knew he would become something so beyond what Lupei had ever expected. With the elder wolf watching, the younger had dutifully chosen his path and he had never, ever looked back.
What he remembers most is the feeling that Qatar sends over him in waves now. Anger, laced with hate, slowly churning into a blind rage that consumes him until he sees red at the edge of his distorted vision. All of his life he’d been intent on focus, control, having the upper hand. All of that, forgotten in a moment’s worth of concentration on Qatar’s part. He doesn’t think when his massive body shoots forward, doesn’t think when his teeth snap over empty air instead of crunching into leathery skin and feeling the satisfying rip of flesh. All he can think of is how (for once) he’s feeling something so bitterly sharp that it drives him nearly mad - and since he cannot satisfy that feeling with instant death, in a blind rage he twists his massive body and shrinks until he’s a smaller, more adept version of his previous self.
Longer legs, a narrower skull, and large, wickedly curved spurs on the inside of each three-toed foot. His wide mouth splits open to reveal rows of serrated teeth and a high-pitched chirp cackles from his throat. He’s turned from Heartfire’s illusion to the living, breathing replicator herself, intelligent eyes zeroing in on the young black stallion and his spotted counterpart mare. But Qatar is no idiot, and Heartfire doesn’t seem in favor of dying today, so the feeling is gone almost as quickly as it had begun and Wyrm blinks, reeling from the whiplash of emotion.
In an instant, the ancient beast is gone and only a weedling, emerald green colt remains. It’s amazing what the truth is when all the false forms are stripped away. Wyrm’s eyes rise to meet the other two, a sideways grin breaking out over his jaw. “I suppose I’m satisfied.” He tells them, finding the statement to be oddly true. His curious gaze passes between the silent boy and the blue-eyed girl, thinking again of what the trio could accomplish. “If you ever need more practice, or perhaps even a favor, come looking for me in the North. I have my eye on settling in the Gates.” He finishes, slowing his breathing. His lower legs coil beneath him and he hops suddenly into the air, morphing into an odd-looking falcon before shooting over their heads and out across the expanse of the now half-catalogued Desert.
My nightmares breathe new life
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