The world is offensively tiny. Everything is wrong-sized. Trees shouldn't be taller than me, rivers shouldn't take more than one step to cross, and rocks—ROCKS—should not be able to stub my foot, and yet here I am, limping down a dirt path; because apparently, human toes are fragile little things that crack if you kick something too hard.
Who designed humans? Who thought, "Yes, let's give them pathetic claws, no wings, and bones that snap if you look at them wrong"? Ridiculous. I want my claws back. I want my wings back. I want to roar properly again instead of making this ridiculous human "HRAAGH—kh—cough" noise that burns my throat.
I don't know how anyone lives like this. These bodies are so fragile; I bump my shoulder on a tree and it hurts. It hurts! Do you know how insulting that is?! I used to ram into mountain cliffs for fun, and now a PINE BRANCH nearly takes me out.
And the forest animals—useless. Utterly useless. They all sprint the second they see me, which is rude, because I wasn't even going to eat them— Probably. Maybe. Depends on the day. So now I have to wander around, starving and furious, while birds laugh at me from above. I hear them. I KNOW they're laughing.
I should be soaring right now. I should be terrorizing the skies, not swatting mosquitoes. The indignity of it all. And the Pyre—oh, the Pyre. It's somewhere out there, glowing, burning, everything I want and everything I can't currently reach because of THESE LEGS. HUMAN LEGS. Too slow. Too wobbly. Too… fleshy.
The Ancestral Pyre had better fix all of this, because if I drag this miserable excuse of a body across the entire continent only to find out it doesn't work, I am burning something down. Somehow. Even without fire breath. I'll figure it out. Chaos is a renewable energy source for me.
I hate this. I hate all of this.
And the worst part? The vessel rules. The Pyre might fix me, but if something tries to kill me on the way, I'll need a human nearby whose soul can house me, as if that's easy. Humans hate things for fun. Have you met them? They hate noise. They hate strength. They hate tallness. They hate ruby eyes. And you know what I have? ALL OF THOSE.
I need a human—a vessel—close by, one who doesn't immediately want to kill me. Do you know how hard that is? Humans have SO MANY FEELINGS and most of them are either fear, suspicion, or outrage at something I "accidentally" knocked over. I don't even need them to like me, they just have to not be actively trying to kill me. That's it. That's the bar.
It's a very low bar, and yet humans, puny as they are, can't even reach that.
And honestly? Their reactions are so inconsistent. Some run screaming when they see my eyes. Others throw things. One tried to poke me with a broom. A broom! I have never hated an object more in my life. And then there are the ones who are weirdly fascinated, staring at me like I'm some lost puppy.
So yes, I need help. Unfortunately. Some human who doesn't actively want to dismember me. Some human who won't faint the second I look at them. Someone who won't scream "DEMON!" every time I open my mouth to speak. Rare, yes. Nearly impossible, actually. But I'll find one eventually—even if I have to knock down a dozen more towns to do it.