Slow Change

Slowly, there is change, morphing from the crusted earth that had grown into the body, fusing with every nerve like roots seeking water. The agony of this transformation lasts for one thousand seasons with images of another life haunting, dashing hopes with faint desire. I have been swallowed whole and left only with regret for a forgotten oath. I can feel the mourning of gnarled hands on foreign soil, stretched out across the landscape, as voices scream for justice. The screams, full of terror, have left something foul to rot and it is now seeping into my space. An ancient blood surges through my veins, forming flesh, forcing me into something I had not known before.

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