Keith's POV
The cold was the first thing I felt. A deep, metallic chill seeping into my skin from the surface beneath me. Then, the full-body throb that spoke of shattered bones recently re-knitted, of muscles strained past their limits.
I should be dead.
That was my first, clear thought. The last shreds of memory were a chaotic montage of rage, of tearing flesh, of a bestial roar that was my own voice. I'd lost control.
On a battlefield swarming with undead, I had become one of the monsters. The military had been there, weapons raised. I'd seen the terror in their eyes, the silver-tipped barrels swinging toward me.
I should be a corpse on the ravaged asphalt of the Serpent's Kiss, or a smoldering heap after a plasma burst.
But I wasn't. I was… here.
