It's been two weeks. Your skull is buzzing. Your halo shines bright enough to light dark rooms, a steady, reliable light. No more sparks. You are beginning to notice small depressions set into your face when you look in the mirror. Last night, one of them briefly opened, revealing an eye. As soon as it did, you were overcome with painful light. The new eye rolled frantically in its socket, pupil dilated wide, for a few seconds before closing again. Since then, you've examined the other depressions more closely, and discovered that several of them are starting to develop slits along their length. Presumably they, too, will eventually open, exposing new eyes to a world of light they aren't ready to see. Your wings are developing bony protrusions along their upper ridges, the edges of which are beginning to look like steel. You would be concerned about these developments, but you're too tired. You haven't slept in days. When you try, the buzzing in your skull escalates into a sharp pain, piercing through your brain. The most rest and upkeep you can manage is a cold shower and change of clothes before you head back out. You barely remember what you looked like when the halo was new. There's little space in your addled brain for anything beyond Purpose, and rage. When you get your hands on the target, you will rend it beyond recognition.
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