Page 49 of Alien Barbarian's Little Human

And I will enjoy every second of it.

I can no longer fly, but I can still run. Only, I move so slowly with my dead wings dragging behind me. Reaching up behind my shoulders, I grab the wings by the roots and tear them out. The pain is horrific, but I hear myself laughing at the sheer brutality of it all.

My wings now lie on the ground behind me. I stumble forward and fall, in even worse pain than when I was shot. The wounds begin to heal, growing long, curving bone spikes where the wings once were. Good. I have more weapons with which to eviscerate my enemies.

I roam the city streets for hours, slaying everything that I encounter. I do not know where my folk are. Perhaps they are hiding, or in the midst of evacuation. All I know is, I must punish those who have destroyed our beautiful home.

And I thoroughly enjoy doing it.

At last, I find myself in the rubble that used to be the council chambers. It resembles half of an open air stadium now, the roof blown away and the walls largely collapsed. The reflecting pool in the center is now stained red with blood.

I catch a glimpse of a hideous monster in the pool. Recoiling in horror, I see that the monster acts just as surprised and abhorred as I…

Until i realize it is my reflection. I am the monster. I drop to my knees, staring into the water at the horror I have become. My features are sharp, feral. The bone spurs jut out of my body, most of them dripping with the blood of my slain enemies.

I am no longer Ishani. I have become death itself.

“Varona?”

The sound of Chloe’s voice makes me start. I slowly rise to my feet, but I do not turn around.

“Do not come any closer, Chloe.” My voice is a vicious rasp of barely contained homicidal rage. “I am not feeling…myself.”

“Varona, what happened? You left me all alone. Where are your wings?”

I turn to see her, and she gasps, hand flying in front of her face. Yet, I can see the recognition in her blue eyes. She knows it is me. Chloe is my jalshagar. She knows my soul even if my body is changed.

But I wonder, is my soul intact? Or is it just as monstrous and twisted as my physical form?

“Chloe, I love you.”

Saying the words helps me feel more grounded. Staring into her azure eyes fills my heart with joy rather than the violence of slaughter. All of the sudden, my problems don’t seem so insurmountable.

It doesn’t matter what my body looks like. All that matters is our love, and the soul we share.

“Varona?” She takes a cautious step back as I approach.

“Don’t flee, my love. I would never hurt you. Never.”

My voice sounds more like its old self. Something shifts in my skin, and it seems like the bone spurs are receding, growing smaller. My clawed hands grasp for her.

Chloe stops her retreat. I can’t hold back any longer. I surge forward and wrap her in my embrace. It feels so good to hold her in my arms again.

“Chloe, my love, let us be gone from this place while I still have some measure of sanity.”

Her response is a rasping, choking sound. I pull out to arm’s length and stare into her wide eyed expression. A line of blood leaks out of the corner of her mouth.

“Chloe, are you injured, my love?”

My gaze drops downard, and my heart shatters. Her uniform has soaked through with dark blood, its fabric perforated dozens of times. When I embraced her, I impaled her with my spikes. How could I have been so careless?

Gasping, she suddenly collapses. I catch her, lowering her gently to the ground. I try to apply pressure to stop the bleeding, but once I staunch the flow in one area, it begins anew somewhere else.

Desperate, I try to sing the song of healing. Only, my voice comes out as a guttural, harsh snarl. The power is gone. I cannot sing her back to health.

“No, Chloe…do not die! Please!”

“Varona,” she gasps, blood foaming at her lips. “I…forgive…”

---