[Salone]

"I AM YOUR PLAGUE, CAIN. I HAVE NOT YET RAN MY COURSE!"

All at once the particles of Na'lsa's body began to stir, moving through Cain's 'body'. Gorging on the inside, they quickly grew in to much more massive proportions, the body no longer able to contain them as his chest burst open. It was followed by the hand of Na'lsa, gripping something covered in gore. The rest of the chest contorted wildly as Na'lsa made Cain's flesh his own, weaving blood and tissue together to form his upper torso as he wrenched himself free from the chest. For the moment, he was skinless. Blood and muscle glistened across bone, freshly produced organs pumping furiously. Eyes not held back by skin glared down at Cain in a wide and unframed grin-like expression. Na'lsa placed a bony hand upon the skin of Cain, and with a great heave it gave way. In a matter of moments he rose completely from the quickly fading body, and with a flourish of the flesh he had stripped, he pulled it around his shoulders. There was a horrible creaking sound. Skin tightened, pulled itself over bone, oozed downward like melted wax.

He cackled. His face was as it was, before he had left himself to the wind. Everything below the neck was something else. Patchworks of skin, stretch marks, crisscrossing scars. Buildups of tissue that had quickly fused together. But the skin he wore was still different, something besides scars and scrapes. He hadn't just consumed a source of power. He had woven it in to himself. He bore the flesh of Cain.