I had rebelled against their fireless lives, it caused damage, it killed. Yet, it was unimaginably perfect. Fire managed to spark some sense of relief in my body, the dying and birth of a flame was like a human life, it lived, growing, gaining strength until it reached a maximum limit. The only side effect, it destroyed everything in its path.
Kind of like the inhuman creature that sat in front of me. Only, fire was pure. I was human, I was weak, my body was detiorating and I had not adapted, It was a death sentence, being housed in an infimiry. They promised they were doing something. I knew better, I knew I was dying.
Yet something was happening.