Darkness had swallowed me whole, and it held me for a time I couldn't count. Days and hours blurred, meaningless, the light too faint to rouse me from that mournful dream.

In my mind, I was alone at a deserted place, white sand like snow but warm like a fireplace touched my feet. I had no feathers or claws, my pale skin glowed at a huge black sun that raised upon a bare sky. Colors blazed vivid and beautiful, and the breeze was gentle and soothing. I felt no pain, heard no sound. I think I glimpsed peace, right then.

"Am I dead?" I thought, but my thoughts echoed as if someone else spoke them for me. They retorted in the void and came back to me foreign and distant.

"Florian... come..." a rough voice called, not mine. "Where?" I asked, and I walked—slowly, for miles that stretched into eternity—knowing any direction would lead me where I was meant to go.

A massive, coal-black feathered thing sat cross-legged on a rock. Not human, not bird—more a shadowed version of myself, lurking in my mind. I knew.

"Where am I?" I asked. Its black eyes glowed with pain and regret. "This place has no name but the one you give it, Florian. We're only here because you let us be."

Its voice filled the air, omnipresent and powerful, yet calm and innocent.

"Who are you?"

"I am you—the part you'd erase. And you are me—the part I'd erase. Two halves of the same existence. We've finally met."

"I don't get it!" I collapsed, sinking into the sand, hands covering my face as blood tears dripped from my eyes. "I don't even know what I am!"

"You're Florian, and you want to go home," it said, slow and calm, mirroring my own cadence.

"There's no home to go back to... Crow."

"Only if you choose it so. Will you let me take control, or let fences, spikes, waves, and rotten flesh keep you from home?"

"What happens if I let you take control..."

I never heard the answer.

I woke to the ache of a million tortures, and all the hate on earth flooding me. Everything was red and black, and reality seemed a distorted version of itself. I couldn't control my body, it was covered in black feathers and they kept growing and morphing as if they had been gifted with a life of their own, making a whispering rustle, like grass dragged by the wind, delicate yet unsettling. It hurt like nothing ever did before.

Too late, I realized the beast I'd spoken to had seized me, charging stupidly against walls that slashed my skin and pierced my bones, against the poisoned lock sealing the pit. It hurled itself and got me hurt with each move, I bled and hurt, it commanded merciless, as my body, now its puppet, did as told, ignorant to my will, devoted to its wrath and power. It didn't care if it destroyed me. I fought with what strength remained, but my nails couldn't beat the claws of its darkness, and my agonising screams weren't loud enough to bring me back to reality. The pain grew so vast it dulled to warmth, and I welcomed it, thinking it'd kill me at last.

But it didn't.

Each wound healed fast—healing worse than the hurt. Red tormented me, and a chorus of screams—hundreds strong—filled the air. Agony. It could last forever if I didn't stop it.

"Stop!" I screamed, pleading more than commanding. I just wanted it to end. But it didn't.

Again, I don't know for how long it raged, but the pain numbed, and I woke up at that strange place covered in sand. The giant human-crow thing lay there, its face a quiet mask of suffering—beautiful, with fewer feathers, its nose and lips those of a pretty girl. Its voice, though, was mine—deeper, harsher.

"Let me go back..." I said, annoyance creeping into my tone.

"What for?" it said, as if oblivious of its stupid actions.

"If you destroy my body, there'll be nothing left to do."

It stared, curious, as if I'd spoken an alien tongue, then it started to laugh so loud I thought mountains would grow around us. "Destroy?! Don't make me laugh this much I can't stand it! Your body can't be destroyed. That's the curse of your kind. You'll exist—out there in pain or here in calm. Let me out, and you take my place."

Rage flared, but its words sank in. The offer was as good as being dead—calmness, quiet, no more pain. Yet why did he want to go out so badly? Eternity could twist even bliss into torment. If I chose to trade places with that thing, I would loose who I was, I would lose the chance to live, to see Victor again, to eat real food, to play the piano, to see the world. I couldn't let that happen. I'd spent too long caged—in chests, pits, my own skin. There was so much I wanted to see, to know, to be...

"No!" I barked. "Give me my body back, creature! Now! You have achieved nothing but destroying my flesh just so it heals and breaks again. You don't think, you don't hurt. You'll never escape if you've nothing to escape for."

The thing looked at me incredulous, as if I'd finally said something interesting. I was terrified, I won't lie, it was bigger than me and it could hurt me in ways I didn't want to imagine. I felt pain; it didn't. If one of us was going to get hurt, it would be me. But I could not step back right now. I had nothing to lose but my sanity, if that was something I still had anyways.

It leaned close, its hot breath on my face, nose nearly brushing mine. "Or what?" it dared. I froze—a fly on its snout, easily flicked away. Then I thought of Victor and the place I called home. I'd said there was no home to return to—a lie. There was a home, and it was the one person who ever treated me like a valuable thing. No, like a human worth of life.

"Or nothing," I said, knowing might wasn't as essential as being shrewd. Victor taught me that. "Keep my body. Trade places like you want. You'll be Florian, I'll be Crow. I won't feel pain; you will. I'll rest in peace; you'll rot in a pit at world's end, alone, unable to return here. Are you sure you want that?"

It pulled back, thoughtful, calm. Hours passed before it spoke again. When it did, we struck a deal. I learned the power I'd hated was more than a curse—it could be a gift. We merged without words, consciousness entwining, agreeing to what should've been done long ago.

I didn't discover all the secrets, but I accessed some buried memories I didn't imagine existed in that portion of my mind. Crow returned my body; I'd bear the pain, emotions, thoughts. In trade, I'd let it emerge to hunt, to play with prey, because that's what Crow, after all is—a predator, a beast, one that seeks a purpose and by instinct needs the blood I had deprived it from for so many years. That's why Crow took over me when I fell asleep, that's why Crow cursed me to be in that pit alone and hopeless—if I would've known sooner, we would've never fallen in there. Yet what a paradox—because I would've never found light without cherishing darkness, without losing light, I'd never have craved the dark.

When I woke up again, I was a different version of myself, and I could feel it in every bone and every drop of blood within me. Now, I had to keep my promise and escape. I didn't know how, but I would—and I was sure of it. For the first time in my life I was not afraid, and I felt powerful because I was, and all it took was realizing it.

My body was human again, save for Crow's form when I chose or needed it. Cold, wet, trembling, hungry—and the worst part of it was that I would not die out of cold or starvation, so I endured. Crow lent me a clawed arm, and with that thick sharpen nail I started to scratch the wall—a cage of spiked stone fangs that pierced me with every move. My body was eternal, but nothing else on earth was. The ocean pulsed near—I smelled it, tasted salt in the air. I scratched, dug, scratched that one spot. When I got tired I would let my body rest on the cold, bloody ground where so many feathers had made a pillow. I dug and scratched the stone and I don't know how long it was, but one day, water seeped in, then flooded. High enough, I used those claws to break the spiked fence above. It was poisonous and it made me bleed, but my nails regrew. I could breathe even when the water had covered my face. I drowned so many times beneath the waves but couldn't die—torture turned tool.

After days and nights beyond counting, I emerged—not as human, but as beast.