FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I made it! Here's my contribution to the Midnight Secret Contest. I hope it's not too long - about 6,300 words. My thanks to [drackir](%5C) for the prompt (the first two paragraphs).

Your comments, especially criticism, are welcome. I've tried a somewhat different feel for this than I've done before, so please let me know how well it worked for you. Thanks!

• Xi

A Spark

It was the witching hour, nothing so crude as midnight of course. Anyone can be a witch at midnight under a full moon. It was past 3 am and he had been awoken by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him urgently. His eyes opened to an unfamiliar ceiling and the usual questions of "Who am I?" "Where am I?" "Am I wearing clothes?" filled his head and were promptly banished. A finger pressed against his lips and words were whispered into his ear barely above the threshold of hearing, the voice one of a distant memory his sleep addled brain could not yet recollect.

"I want to tell you a secret."

"Wha -?" the young man responded blearily, trying to think through the fog of weariness that wrapped around his brain. Slowly a woman's face swam into view, her long maroon hair falling onto his and heavily shadowed eyes staring down at him. She was only a foot or so away, yet her outline seemed oddly blurred. He must have been more tired than he'd thought. What had he been doing all night?

She smiled at him reassuringly. "That's it, Travis. Don't worry, everything's all right. Now you need to get up, Travis, you need to get up so I can tell you the secret." Staring deeply into his eyes, she gently pulled him to his feet, then stepped back and beckoned to him coaxingly. "That's good, Travis. Now come along. Come to me. That's it. You can do this."

He stumbled after her, lost in the warm, comforting hazel pools in her face. Travis? He thought that sounded right. It made him think of a dull job at a local hardware store, and night classes at a local community college.

His feet were falling on soft grass. That made Travis frown in confusion. There was no grass at the hardware store. He pulled his eyes out of the woman's, looked at her ivory face instead, with its full, inviting lips. There was something familiar about those lips, that skin, like he knew her from somewhere. He tried to make his clumsy voice express what he was thinking, tried to ignore the dull, sticky heat pressing down on him from the night air. "Wha -? Wh-wh-who... are you?"

"Shh, shh, Travis." Her voice was slow as honey, tender and calming. Nothing could be wrong as long as he could hear that voice. "It's okay, you're fine. I'm Emily, remember, you know me. I'm your friend -from high school, remember? This is all okay, it's all normal. Everything will be fine, Travis. Just come with me so I can tell you the secret."

He nodded dully, but then frowned again as he remembered the grass. Slowly he lowered his gaze until he could see it, dimly lit by orange torchlight. How weird. Then his own body caught his gaze, and he realized he was naked, his pasty skin exposed to the hot night. Even stranger, his left half had been shaven, right down the middle, and it was covered in funny black lines, that swirled and twisted over his leg, his hip, his side, his arm, even his face - but which all cut off abruptly at the midline between left and right. The stripes looked like they were made of... letters. Thousands of little letters. He blushed and tried to cover himself, suddenly realizing that there were other people there, some watching him, some doing other things.

Then there were gentle fingers under his chin, guiding him back into the woman's hazel eyes. Oh, yes, of course it was Emily. He'd known her since high school. How could he have forgotten? What the hell had he been doing tonight?

"Don't worry, Travis," she coaxed, smiling gently for him - just for him. "It's okay. You're among friends here, you don't have to be ashamed anymore. Just come with me, Travis, and you won't have to worry about a thing. You're doing such a good job."

Travis felt a slack, goofy smile take his lips, and he let his hands fall to his sides again. Slowly she led him onward, walking backwards so she could look at him the whole time. "That's it," she murmured reassuringly.

He giggled to himself. A zebra. That's what the paint reminded him of; it made him look sort of like a zebra, but with stripes all crazy-curly. But only on half of him. He was a half-a-zebra. The woman smiled back at him. "Yes," she murmured. "That's good."

He barely noticed when they walked under a huge archway made of two massive, vertical pillars of hewn rock with an equally massive slab set horizontally on top of them. He vaguely saw many other archways, arranged in a circle around a flat clearing, and hints of hulking, shadowy figures beyond, but most of his attention was locked on his guide. She was so beautiful, so soothing, that he almost missed the circle of people kneeling around the center of the clearing.

He stopped again, frowning uncertainly. Something wasn't right. They were all kneeling in the grass, heads bowed. They were naked like him. They were all men. Something about it all seemed wrong. Travis didn't like the way they knelt. He took a hesitant step back, shaking his head to try to clear it. It was so very hot - a humid, sticky warmth. It made it hard to think.

"Travis, you need to calm down. This is all okay. Nothing is wrong here. We're waiting for you. We want to help you. You have to be strong now, Travis. This is important to you."

"No," he mumbled, shaking his head harder with downcast eyes. He took another step backward. Then another. And finally Travis turned and ran as hard and fast as he could away from there.

• : -

Travis groaned as the unmercifully bright sunlight stabbed deep into his retina. The sound seemed far too loud in the steamy closeness of his room. God, he hated August. The entire month was like one continual sauna, where hot rains every afternoon combined with burning sunlight every morning to make the entire world slow down and strain to function through the haze.

His phone buzzed again, and he flailed out at it, nearly knocking it off the nightstand before his clumsy fingers grasped the slim object. Blearily trying to focus, Travis saw that he had a new text message, and his thumb moved to open it well before his brain could catch up.

It was from Emily. hey, u ok? u got pretty hammered last nite. call me

He flopped back and covered his face with an arm. "Ugh. Never going to one of those parties again." Every time he did he woke up like this - his brain less use than rotten spaghetti, lucky if he was in any bed, let alone his own. He couldn't even remember what all drugs he must have done to give him the kind of hallucinations that were floating just out of reach of his sleepy consciousness.

He staggered out of his tousled bed. Sparing a brief thanks that the bathroom was only a few feet past his bedroom door, he made it into the tub and turned on the hot water, pulling the knob for shower and letting it pour down over his head, rinsing off while the myriad impacts slowly woke him up. Then he reached for the soap, but recoiled in horror.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned, staring at the black markings wrapping around his left hand. Almost against his will, his eyes traveled slowly up his arm, following the swirling stripes over his whole body while his head spun dizzily. He stumbled, crashing his shin against the side of the bath tub and falling to his knees on the dull ceramic while the water continued to spray down over him.

He reached out blindly and fumbled on the shower shelf until his hand found the rough pad he used to wash his face - a holdover from the harsh cleaning he'd used to clear out his acne in his high school days. Now he used it to scrub frantically at the markings, moaning again when they didn't fade. He scrubbed harder. He had to get them off. He had to get those letters out of his skin. They were obscene, covering his left side like a plague, and he had to get them off. Finally they started to fade and rinse off in black streams, but his skin broke behind them, leaving bleeding marks behind. He whimpered in pain, but didn't stop scrubbing, instead pressing even harder while tears streaked his face, frantically hunting over his body, breathing faster, and faster, and faster until the last of those vile symbols was finally gone. Then he bent over the drain and retched from the horror and pain. His bile mixed with the black ink and red blood as they spiraled down into the metal grate. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," he moaned, clutching his stomach and using the phrase as a mantra to calm himself. Finally he regained enough sense to toss the black-stained pad into a corner of the stall. It was definitely ruined, now.

Slowly Travis climbed to his feet, the cuts spread across his flesh stinging as the hot water bit into them. Numbly, he got the soap and washed himself off, then paused. He just looked weird, with half his body shaved - except his head, he still had his hair there. Sure, no one would know under his clothes, but he felt lopsided. Stepping out of the tub but leaving the water on, he hesitantly grabbed the razor by the sink. "What the hell," he said aloud. "It'll grow back anyway; may as well." Getting back into the shower, he slowly started shaving his right half. It felt... weird, yet oddly sensual. Rather to his surprise, he felt himself getting aroused, and a slow smile spread across his face. It took quite a bit longer to finish his shower than it usually did.

He was still smiling when he decided to call Emily back.

"Travis?" her voice sounded genuinely relieved to hear from him, which put a warm little glow in his chest.

"Hey, Em," he said casually.

"Oh, I'm glad it's you, I was beginning to get worried after you didn't return my calls. Are you okay?"

"Sure, I'm -" he stopped in mid-sentence, unable to pass off everything that had happened with a 'fine,' "- pretty weirded out right now," he admitted instead, "but I guess I'm okay."

"That's good. Listen, I really want to apologize for not getting you out of there sooner. Things got way out of hand last night, and I was too wasted to think. Can I buy you dinner or something, to make it up to you?"

"I dunno," Travis said a bit uneasily. He wasn't sure he was ready to go out again and - "wait, dinner? What time is it anyway?"

"It's half past three, Travis," Emily said, a hint of worry creeping into her voice again. "Please, come on over, I'm really feeling guilty about this thing."

He sighed, suddenly feeling tired. It wasn't worth the confrontation. "Yeah, all right, I'll be at your place in like half an hour, 'kay?"

When he arrived, he looked deeply into her eyes, trying to connect them with his half-remembered hallucinations. They were warm, yes, and a bit mysterious, but he certainly didn't lose himself in their depths, and he shook his head in self-exasperation.

"Hey? Earth to Travis?" She was looking at him in concern.

"Sorry," he said apologetically. "I'm just pretty out of it, I guess."

"No problem," she answered, leading him back to her apartment. "So how much can you even remember about last night?"

"Umm, not much," the young man admitted, admiring her maroon hair and clinging dress while she opened the door for him. He privately thought all that Goth stuff was stupid, but he couldn't deny the fashion was pretty awesome - on women, anyway. "I remember getting there, and a shitload of dancing and booze, and then... um, I think I heard some weird chanting, or singing, and lying on a table, and..." he trailed off, remembering falling into the hazel eyes now turned on him. Maybe best to gloss over that part; he didn't want to sound like a complete lunatic, raving about being hypnotized by her eyes - or worse, like he had a crush on her. "And then I woke up at my pad with a bunch of paint or something all over me." He managed a weak smile. "Some party."

"Paint?" Emily asked a bit absently. "Shit, I thought I imagined that." Then she seemed to snap out of it, and scooted over the ancient sofa to hug him, tracing little circles and designs on his back. "Oh, Travis, I'm so sorry." Her voice hardened. " 'Some party.' That's the last one for me; I've had enough of coming back so high I can't remember half the night, and dragging you into it."

"Still, it was kinda fun, except for the whole paint-and-hallucinations thing," Travis half-protested. He couldn't understand why he was defending it, even slightly. He guessed he just didn't want to be the reason Emily stopped going and maybe broke up with her friends. But she just laughed.

"Don't worry about it. Hey, tell you what; lemme call some other friends over and we'll have some actual fun. Don't worry," she added teasingly, obviously sensing the young man's sudden discomfort. "No drugs, no alcohol, nothing like that; I at least have to work tomorrow, even if you don't. We'll just watch a movie or something, 'kay?"

He wasn't really sure he wanted to try another party so soon, but she continued to cajole him, assuring him that this one would be different. Finally he gave in, and flopped back onto the cushions while she talked on the phone, fanning himself with his t-shirt and wishing there were a tactful way out of this.

• : -

It wasn't midnight yet, but the darkness had well and truly taken hold. Travis wiggled uncomfortable against the confining seatbelt, mashed into the back of the van between a guy and a girl he only vaguely knew.

"So I thought we were just gonna watch a movie," he said in confusion. He tried to recall exactly what had been said, just a few hours previously, but kept getting distracted before he could -

"Oh, quit your worrying, silly," Emily said from the seat in front of him, twisting around. "We're just going out to the mountain for a little, that's all. Everything's fine."

Travis nodded, struck dumb by how pretty her face looked in the moonlight. He'd never realized how fine her bone structure was in its frame of hair, how deep and soothing her eyes seemed...

Who am I? Where am I? Am I wearing clothes?

He was lying on some kind of stone table, dreamily watching three women of varying ages paint those black symbols over his right half, while he could hear a deep, rhythmic chanting somewhere. Yet he felt oddly disinterested, too calm even to worry about it through the pleasant fog wrapped around his brain.

Then she entered his glazed vision.

"Do you want to know the secret?"

Her smile was so open, so safe. How could anything bad happen when she looked at him like that? He sat up, drinking in her gentle encouragements.

"I... I know you, don't I?"

"Yes, Travis. I'm Emily. I'm your friend from high school. Come along, now, so I can tell you the secret. That's it. That's very good, Travis."

He frowned slightly. This all felt so familiar - he'd done it before. Hadn't he? He tried to grasp at the fragmented images fluttering through his mind. Dimly he thought there was something wrong, something that he couldn't remember, but of course there couldn't be anything wrong as long as She was there. Everything would be all right. He just had to do whatever - ah! There was one image. A circle of stone, and inside it a circle of kneeling men.

He was passing the stone circle. There were the men. She was pushing him gently forward, her whisper still echoing in his head. "Go on. You're doing great; you're being very good. Travis, I need you to listen very carefully. I need you to look at each of these men, and pick the one you like best. This is very important to you. You can do it, Travis. I believe in you."

He was walking from one of the kneeling men to another. He could see that they were all big and strong, aged from boys to old men. They all knelt before him, and did not look up. He tentatively petted each of their heads. He liked them all. But he wanted to pick the best one. The way he could make Her happy.

He touched the next man with his right hand. A thrill ran up his arm, making the letters tingle. He slowly caressed the dark brown, wavy hair. Travis smiled. This was the one. This was him.

"It's you," he whispered. "I pick you."

The man looked up at him, his chocolate eyes burning with passion. "Master," he breathed reverently, fanatical fervor fulminating beneath his words.

Travis stepped back, startled. "M- M-" he mumbled, unable to say the word. No. That wasn't right. What the hell had he been doing tonight? Staggering blindly away, he heard voices, heard Her calling him, but he couldn't listen, not now. The heat pressed sickly on his body, made his flushed skin slick with sweat, invaded his mind and robbed his ability to think.

He felt hands on him, groping, trying to calm him, hold him down. He screamed, and fled once again into the hot blackness of the night.

• : -

He whimpered and sobbed in the ceramic tub, bleeding freely from a thousand letters gouged in whorls and stripes into his skin. Those on his left had burned with fresh pain as soon as he'd touched the new ones, pain that had only increased as he desperately scrubbed at the obscenity invading his body. But the markings were as legible in scarlet as they'd been in black.

The blood finally slowed, and he forced himself out of the shower, grabbed a towel, felt his skin burn as he dabbed it dry, staggered out of the bathroom into the stuffy, sweltering hall stub off his living room.

She didn't immediately answer her phone, and he felt irrational anger threatening to overwhelm him as it rang once, twice, a third time.

"Hey, Travis."

"Don't fuck with me, Emily. What the hell is going on?"

"Did you wash them off?"

"What?"

"The marks on your body. Have you washed them off yet?"

He swallowed, his stomach suddenly just a void in his gut. "H-how do you know I did that?" Then he shook his head angrily, making little drops of sweat fly and his vision blur. "Dammit, I don't care. I want answers - now! What the -"

"Why don't you come on over? We can talk about it here."

"You're fucking insane, Emily! I'm not getting near you, I want you to tell me -"

Click.

Travis held the phone numbly, then hurled it violently against the wall. It shattered, but he still couldn't escape the feeling that he was swathed in cotton, that nothing he did could affect anything.

He started to pace, pausing only to angrily yank some clothes on. He ignored the pain where the fabric chafed his raw skin. "The hell she thinks I am," he said wildly. "No way in hell I'm going; I'm through with this shit. I'll just call her, make her tell me -" his eyes fell on the pieces of his phone. "Fuck!"

"Forget it. She can fucking rot; I don't need her. I'll leave town if I have to, I'll get a different job." He was pacing faster, now. God, he had to sit down, clear his head, think this shit through. Why couldn't he think?

She was waiting for him at the door to her apartment.

And the man was waiting inside.

Travis stopped at the entry to the living room, while the man stood nervously, his entire body straining forward without actually moving a muscle. He was a couple years older than Travis, and had the muscles of a bodybuilder. He was wearing black wind pants and a dress shirt, unbuttoned to reveal the tanned, smooth skin beneath.

"I don't believe you two have been formally introduced," Emily said from behind the younger man, making him jump as she moved smoothly past. "Travis, this is Orion. Orion, Travis."

Numb, Travis shook his hand, then jerked back with a yelp when he felt that strange, electric shock again. Orion's lips parted and he panted a little, but somehow he kept his voice steady. "It's good to see you, M- Sir."

Travis backed another step, hitting the door. "Oh, fuck," he whispered, fumbling behind himself for the latch. But Orion moved forward, carefully taking the younger man's hand and holding it. Again there was that strange jolt of energy; it didn't fade over the prolonged contact, just mellowed into a background hum coursing through their flesh.

"It's okay," the larger man whispered reassuringly, tugging him towards the couch. "It's okay to be frightened, but we're going to explain everything. I'm here for you, Sir."

He dazedly let himself be led forward. "So what happened to working today?" he asked Emily, keeping to the trivial.

"I decided to take the day off," she answered, her slight smile mocking the casual conversation while the insides of his clothes were damp with blood. Orion carefully pulled him down onto the cushion, their thighs pressed together. He leaned back against the warm chest, somehow comfortable despite the August warmth, his mind reeling as he realized how much he enjoyed it, how right it felt when it should have been so wrong.

He tried to look into her eyes, but at the last second cast his gaze to one side instead. "What is the secret?" he asked bluntly.

"Magic," she answered without missing a beat.

He rolled his eyes, not even bothering to be surprised. "Right. Have you said anything that isn't bullshit lately? But, assuming I'm insane enough to buy that, what the fuck's it got to do with me?"

"You don't think the runes you drew on yourself are for decoration, do you?"

"Your fucking friends did this, not me!"

She scoffed. "Paint - almost completely mundane. You drew the runes." Her eyes bored into him intently, making him glance even further away.

He was having trouble breathing - so much so, that he never really noticed when Orion's arms stole around him; he just returned the embrace while his vision swam. Even the burning on his skin did nothing to dispel the surreal feeling in Emily's apartment.

For her part, she seemed almost dreamy, if one could ignore the passion just beneath her voice. "It's interesting. Almost every ancient culture worshipped animals in some way. In China and America, they believed that the spirits of animals were watching over them. In Egypt and Persia, they built impossible monuments, moved ten-ton blocks of granite hundreds of miles - and they worshipped animal-headed gods. The bear-sarks, the most feared warriors of the Vikings, wore animal skins into battle, and were said to fight with that animal's strength. The great druids erected circles of stone, and were said to be able to take the shape of any animal they chose. It's only fairly recently that the predominant world religions have begun to pretend that their gods are human."

He shook his head, bewildered. "What are you smoking? That's got nothing to do with anything!"

She smiled gently. "Actually, it does." She glanced over to the kitchen, and his gaze inadvertently followed hers.

Had he been thinking a bit faster, he might have screamed; as it was, her calming voice stole his attention before he could move past simple disbelief. "His name is Seth. I made him when I was just sixteen. Seth, come here."

Silently, the... creature... moved over to her and knelt at her feet. At nearly eight feet tall, and proportioned to match, it seemed like a giant in the small living room. Its skin was covered in grey-and-black fur, and its hands... paws... were strangely proportioned, with rough pads on the palm-side and short black claws protruding from the fingertips. It was dressed only in cargo shorts and a necklace that held a shining white gem on a fine chain. But he barely noticed any of that; his eyes were locked on its head. The head of a wolf, blending smoothly into its powerful shoulders. A distant part of his mind appreciated how it was called an animal-headed god - though its body was also furred and blatantly inhuman, the head was impossible to ignore. The god part was obvious - its glass-smooth, lifeless eyes almost glowed with power, and their utter disregard for his existence sent a shiver down his spine. It didn't even glance at him; its sole attention was riveted on Emily.

She affectionately petted the wolf's head. "He's beautiful, isn't he? I took him almost on impulse; I saw his potential, and all it took was a one-night stand to gain the command. A pity, in some ways - he fell on the first night of the spell. You'll be much more powerful; you've lasted till the third. But even he has more power than any human in the coven, and he's been a great help." The wolf closed his eyes, a blissful smile just gracing his lips. She touched under his chin, and he obediently stood up and left the room again.

There was a roaring sound in Travis's ears. "What - you -" he gasped, jerking out of Orion's arms and staggering back. He turned to run, but slipped and fell as the buzzing energy abruptly poured out of his limbs, left him empty in his own skin. He whimpered helplessly, consumed by a sudden, overwhelming longing to have it back, until he felt large, warm hands rubbing his neck, sending blessed shocks through him. Shuddering again and again, he twisted until he could wrap his arms around Orion's chest.

Their shirts were already off when Emily regretfully interrupted. "Unfortunately, we need to get going if we're to make the circle in time."

Shocked out of his study of Orion's body, he pulled away again, though he continued to hold his hand. "Wh-what? You're not - you can't take me back there."

Emily chuckled. "Yes, I can. No one can break the spell three times, Travis. You'll be more useful than you can imagine right now." She looked at him, and he dimly jerked his eyes away from hers. She laughed kindly. "It's all right, Travis. You can look at me; the spell doesn't need me anymore to hold you - not until it's finished."

"Master, shh, shh," Orion whispered to him, pulling the younger man into rich, warm brown eyes. "It's okay. I'm here for you, Master. I'll be here for you always." Some far-away part of Travis's mind felt a detached panic as he fell deeper, and deeper, and deeper...

• : -

He was wrapped protectively in warm, powerful arms, and he knew he was safe. It didn't matter that they were sitting on a massive obsidian altar in the center of the stone circle, only dimly lit by moon and stars. It didn't matter that thirteen women were standing between them and that circle, chanting, or that the night rippled and followed their hands. It didn't matter that he could see massive forms just outside the stone, forms with the heads of animals. He didn't think to ask who he was, or where he was, or if he was wearing clothes, because none of that mattered anymore.

It didn't bother him that the burning on his skin was slowly increasing; not even when the letters started to move. For as long as he could, he ignored it so he could just keep sitting in Orion's lap, blissful. After only a few moments, though, he released a quiet whimper, then a moan of pain as those squirming incisions worked their way over his body. But even that was okay because Orion held him tighter and whispered reassurances into his ear, caressing his hair with one hand.

The first rune that slipped under his skin and started burrowing its way towards his heart made him gasp and cry out; he clamped his lips shut as a second followed suit, and a third, but the fourth overcame his self control. And there were thousands on his body. It was nothing like he'd ever felt, and his agonized shrieks and thrashing seemed to go on forever, long past when he thought he couldn't endure anymore. Slowly his skin cleared, until it looked as though he'd never marked it and only the agony coursing through his veins remained. Finally even that faded, leaving him nothing but to sob brokenly on the hard, hot stone.

Something was shaking him - a large, gentle hand. He almost didn't feel it, locked inside his mind with only echoing chants and the memory of pain for company. But there was something about that hand - a kind of energy, leaping to and fro from the contact. He remembered... he thought he should remember that hand.

Perhaps, then, for the memory he thought he should have, he ought to get up.

The hand was attached to a large man, leaning over him and looking relieved. The man's lips moved, but he couldn't hear a word over the chanting that filled his being. He couldn't understand what was being chanted, but it must have been important to sound so powerful.

The man had picked up a crude stone knife, was handing it to him. How odd. Idly he tested the tip, and pricked his finger. But he couldn't feel the pain; he couldn't feel anything except the man's skin on his. He slowly traced the edges of the knife, wetting them with his blood. He moved to touch the tip against the man's sternum, over the heart. The man nodded and smiled encouragingly, mouthing more words. He liked that smile. Had he known the man? Still wondering, he pushed the knife into the man's chest.

Travis jerked back in horror as the corpse slid off the blade and collapsed onto the altar. Staggering to his feet, he spun around, staring in dawning terror at the women in a circle around him, chanting nonsense. What had happened?

Then, behind the women, he saw them. Monsters. Giants, with the heads of animals, slipping noiselessly from the blackness outside a circle of huge boulders, to stand behind the women. His mouth opened soundlessly, too shocked to scream. Frantic, he turned to run, but his bare foot caught in something hot, wet, and sticky.

He didn't want to look down. Even then, with no idea what had happened or was happening, he knew he didn't want to look down. But he did it anyway.

The body on the altar was... melting. Travis had caught his foot in the arm, and the skin clung to his flesh, was crawling up his leg.

He screamed then.

And, as if triggered by the sound, his entire body exploded in pain, as though every bone were being stretched. It was worse than anything he could remember, except he couldn't remember anything. It was worse than anything he could imagine. Attachments to muscles were ripped off, skin was torn open by his expanding skeleton. He fell onto the corpse, writhing and screaming in agony, and the dead, still-warm flesh and blood clung to him, forced its way into the torn rents in his body, squirmed over and enveloped him. Everywhere it touched him it left his body twisting and deforming, as though the tissues were boiling. His spine shot outward, lengthening, while his skull warped and reshaped, heedless of the organs it was supposed to be protecting. Little shards of the corpse's skeleton pierced through him to meld with is expanding bones.

He couldn't begin to guess how long it lasted; he'd have believed equally that it had been moments or years. But in the end the pain started to ebb, leaving only calm, soothing darkness.

• : -

He knew the secret. Lying spent on obsidian, strength seeping back into his limbs, he knew it. He could feel the earth breathing, and he breathed with it, and the secret was that, if he changed his breathing, the earth would, too.

Quietly he flexed his muscles, not understanding why they felt so new. He'd had them all his life, hadn't he? Maybe he'd only just been born, so his life wasn't long enough to break them in? Slowly he gathered his newfound energy to move his head and look at himself. He was covered in short, coarse fur, striped white and black. The stripes looked oddly familiar, considering he'd only just been born. He asked his brain to identify them, and after a moment it returned the answer: zebra. In the mean time he looked over his powerful body, watching each muscle ripple as he tensed them, one by one, from his head to his hooves.

Something caught his eye, a little ways from his chest on the altar. It was a small little light, shining steadily for him, pure white.

He decided he liked it.

He carefully levered himself to his knees, ignoring the deep impression his new hand left in the rock, and picked up his spark. He cradled it to his chest, his eyes riveted on its light. He thought he could hear it whispering, though he did not know the words. Perhaps he would come to know them, if he listened long enough. The whisper sounded kind.

"Travis? Travis, look at me." He looked up at a woman standing before him. Was his name Travis? She had long maroon hair framing a delicate face, and calming hazel eyes. She was pretty. Looking into those eyes, he wondered why she wore a long black dress. Her body was nothing to hide.

"You're doing great, Travis; you're being a very good boy. Now you need to listen very closely, this is very important. Travis, you need to give me your spark."

She wanted his spark? His hands closed instinctively over it, holding it closer. She smiled earnestly. "Travis, it's okay. I only need it for a moment; you can have it back after, I promise."

Oh. Well, if it was only for a moment... he tentatively started to hold it out, while she cupped her hands securely so that it wouldn't fall out. It seemed like she would take care of it, and he was right here...

He stopped, a shadow of a memory crossing his mind. He frowned. For a newborn, he seemed to have a lot of distant memories, just out of reach of his addled brain. It was difficult to make out, but he thought maybe he shouldn't trust this woman. He didn't know why; she seemed so calming, but it was better to be safe.

Slowly bringing his hands back, he thought he felt the light against his heart brighten slightly. He took a step away and shook his head.

Her voice sharpened. "Travis, you need to give me your spark. Everything will be okay, but you have to do this."

He shook his head again, taking another step back. No. Her face twisted slightly, and she took a single step after him. Braying in fear, he stamped one hoof into the ground, and a stone pillar slammed into the air between them. Behind him, he felt hands and paws groping at him, and molasses beginning to slow his limbs. He wrenched away from them, holding his spark tight to his chest, and fled - only to skid to a stop at the edge of a sheer drop. He didn't know how far down it was; below him, a city spread over the valley, shining yellow in the night.

"Travis, listen to me." Her voice sounded different now. It wasn't calming. It almost sounded worried, and angry, and hungry, under its smooth surface. "You can't break the spell. Give me your spark, Travis. It's - sick. It's sick, and we can help. But you have to give it me."

Looking at her pretty hazel eyes, he learned to speak. "Can't hear it."

"I know, Travis. You can't hear it because it's sick. But I can help. Everything will be okay, I promise."

He hesitated. He didn't want it to be sick. He had to protect his spark. She said she could help. He looked back down the cliff. He didn't know if he could make that drop, and who would look after his spark if he wasn't there?

But then he looked back into her eyes, and saw the hint of avarice. "No."

Idly he wondered if, maybe, before he'd been born, he'd known his spark. He hoped they'd been friends. Then he turned and leapt into space, trusting fate to keep them safe.