Prologue

'She's dead,' I thought, soaking in my suffering.

It hurt; by the damned god, it hurt. My clothes, my body, even the tendrils of my hair, singed beyond even a hint of familiarity, crackled and tore, giving way to my hideous bareness; I'd never wanted any soul to see something so terrible.

My eyes burned, and my lungs and heart seemed not to work unless I commanded them to. And yet, I knew I was mostly unwounded. Fire surrounded me as I looked throughout the village, the flames consuming every last remnant of the once beautiful settlement.

At this point, I doubt even that crazy witch of a woman could live.

'She's dead,' I was reminded.

I couldn't control the thoughts inside my head anymore, but that one message continued to repeat through my head as I struggled to breathe, kneeling down and silently listening to the fire's cracks and pops. I looked at nothing, but I knew everything I saw as if they were kin. My eyes seemed to process everything, from the progression of the fire to every microscopic speck of wood that it vaporized. It was hell trying to change my attention from it, but even my mind wouldn't listen to me anymore...

As I knelt on the burning grass, a hoarse voice came from above, instantly stopping my thoughts and snapping me back into reality.

"You done sitting there, kid?", the voice called, irritated and mumbling.

Flying in mid air, a man with black wings sprouting from his wrists stood with a snarl on his face, and by his expression, I knew he was annoyed by my very presence. I couldn't care less. It took most of my energy just to mutter the bitter words.

"Shut up.", I mustered.

The man paused, his eyes locking onto me as he raised his hand to the sky, churning the clouds above him with just the twirl of a finger.

"Ok, then... Die."

The sky grew darker. His entire body was covered in darkness, but I could see him clearly. The heart, the lungs, the stomach, the intestines... the brain. I could see right through him, yet my body still wouldn't move.

I wanted to move. Something pulled me toward his flesh, something that I couldn't hope to truly perceive, but I knew it existed. It's location, volume, health— I swore I could decipher its taste just looking at it. I needed i—

'My back...'

A sudden nudging pressure ceased my manic temptation; it hurt being so bare. Pale-white wings sprouted from my back as I struggled to move, wrapping around my body just to where I could see.

These, the instrument of all my curses… It hurt to know they still functioned as my body did not, but still, I couldn't hope to control their damned majesty. They were the sole, unavoidable sign of my bareness, and I hated them for attaching themselves to my body.

From the moment of my consciousness, I knew they were some parasite— some devilish contraption designed to bind me to this hell that was me. This whole world couldn't understand what sufferings I've attracted merely due to looking as I do.

It stung knowing my existence would always be reduced to this connection to hell.

As I glanced upward, the blackened sky gifted the pestering man with a weapon made solely of clouds. Electricity sparked from the bushy spear as he began charging toward me. He grew faster, and every centimeter he grew closer, I wished for something-- anything that could save me... until I couldn't see him anymore... Just red.

Empty, my stomach screamed for more food, something to satiate it's newfound, infinite hunger.

'My stomach...' I groaned as my body gave way.

The wind flew past me, and I knew I'd been struck, but I didn't feel anything, just the smoldering heat of my own flesh. My hunger took control, but that insatiable desire helped fill the hole in my pleading mind.

Finally, my thoughts began collecting themselves without me having to be the collector. My arms and legs listened to me, but my heart still wouldn't beat until I told it to. It was welcome, but accepting that side of me was humbling.

That bareness was something I'd despised my entire life; nothing good came from letting my truth show. Every time I was lulled into believing it's temptations, someone I loved was hurt, and that gave way to more bareness. Naked, I was a monster, but clothed, I was a liar, a shell bound by my own heritage.

Maybe, it was time I let go.

'It doesn't hurt anymore! I can defend myse--'

When I tried moving my arms to counterattack, they remained atop my knees, restrained by something. Some outside weight was restraining my arms and not allowing them to move.

Then, I remembered.

'She's dead. Mom's dead.'

Limp. Damp. Red. It was agonizing. Every single drop of blood that was on my hands was hers. It'd already grown brown and attached itself to my palm, staining it and stinging like daggers.

"I remember now... You did this to her..."

I could feel my freedom take control. I felt nothing, but my mind give way to my ugliest bareness. My head turned around completely, my eyes catching up to the man as he stood behind me, his spear of clouds held above my head. The man jolted backward as his eyes laid themselves onto mine, his confidence turning instantly to a beautiful uncertainty.

"Wh--What the hell?!"

Again, I was forced to face the reality.

'She's dead.'

The words flew from my mouth on instinct; I was finally able to release the pain left in my chest! The anger grew as I spoke, swelling as every word passed my lips.

"You did this to her. My mom was just doing her job, and you killed her for it, but... you don't seem like you're sorry. Why aren't you sorry?! I'll make damn sure you are! You did this to her! You hurt her and me... but you didn't feel sorry at all..."

I calmed down suddenly, as if my anger had buffered. I stared at him with blank eyes. His true colors showed for only a second, but that second satiated my hunger. He was scared, and he knew I knew. I wanted to see it more... my hunger to see that expression was unbearable, as if there were a pit in my abdomen.

Surely, there had to be one to explain such agony. Even as I thought this, I knew, once satiated, I'd feel renewed, a man of newfound infinite might that rivaled the Metamites— No, destroyed them, struck fear into their stuck-up, immortal asses.

Just the thought seemed to bring something even knewer out of me.

"Th--Those eyes!", he screamed.

The pain slowly rose through my iris and into my pupil. I could feel my pupil expanding and contorting. My head fell, my hair dangling over the lifeless, cold corpse of my own mother. It felt as if something were tearing me from the insides, as if my heart had finally taken action to rid me of me for doing this to her, the one I'd loved the most.

Kind, gentle, strong— each word I found to describe her etched another scar in my mind. It hurt like hell, but I loved it; Why did I love it so fucking much? I thirsted for more of that feeling. It was beautiful, almost poetic in how my body knew it was meant to be— That his death would be even more wonderful, and I would make no compromise on enjoying every last second of this moment!

'My eyes...'

His fear peaking, he froze still as my broken— renewed neck tilted, and my eyes stared directly through his being. Now I could not only see through him, I could feel it. I could touch it... I could break it.

"You did this and thought that you'd fucking get away with it?! Well...you were wrong. I'm going to hurt you way more than you hurt her or me!"

He responded, fear leading every word he spoke forward. My smile couldn't possibly be grander. My teeth scratched each other viciously, each hoping to tear his body whole, and my mind sung their praises for such distasteful and nasty thoughts.

I, for one, couldn't wait. It was as if every cell in my body ached for his death, and once I was renewed, I would be endless, eternal.

The ultimate bare being.

"You think that your threats have any meaning?! Against my power, you're nothing more than dust beneath my shoe, fucker! Even with those eyes, nothing has changed! You're going to die, runt!"

My mind grew silent, yet it was screaming. I couldn't remember what I did, but I know I did it. My barest, my most beautiful… only such could snuff out such a life so exquisitely.

'He's dead.'