The change was pure agony.
Matt had felt pain before—broken bones, torn flesh, the burn of silver against skin. But this was different. This was every cell in his body rewriting itself, every nerve screaming as something ancient and沉睡 within him clawed its way to the surface.
He dropped to his hands and knees. His fingers elongated. His spine cracked and reformed. Hair—dark, thick, wild—sprouted across his arms, his chest, his back.
But this time, he was aware.
This time, he could feel something else sharing his mind. Something old. Something hungry.
Let go, a voice growled from the depths of his consciousness. Let me take over. You can't save her like this.
"No." Matt gritted his teeth, fighting against the transformation. "Get out of my head."
She's dying. The silver is in her blood. Every second you waste, she fades.
