The first pale light of dawn seeps through the slats of my office blinds, painting thin lines across the carpet. I stand at the window, pulling back the edge of the blinds to watch the city wake beneath me. The streets are quiet, peaceful—unaware of the betrayal I've uncovered through the night. My body aches with fatigue, muscles still not fully recovered from the transformation days ago, now further taxed by hours hunched over my computer. But my mind is clear, crystallized by the cold certainty of what I've discovered.
Street lamps flicker out one by one as the sky brightens from indigo to pale blue. Early commuters emerge like cautious animals, clutching coffee cups, faces turned down against the morning chill. From this height, they seem small, insignificant—yet each has a life untou
