Nightmares.

Your inner beast speaks to you...

I am your worst nightmare, come to life. You can't hide me. People see me as they walk past. They hear me when I talk.

You can't hide me.

You may believe me to be a figment of your imagination, hiding away in the closets of your mind. That we're not the same. That you are you and I am me.

You're not wrong.

I am you. For, when the witching hour strikes, I will be there. I will take your mind, mould it into my own. I will release your inner beast.

And you will be trapped. Alone. Watching, helpless, as your body fails your command. You cannot control it; your nature has taken over. You cannot stop. You cannot stop the horror of watching your hands change, morph into those of a killer.

Your ministry speaks to you...

I am your worst nightmare, come to life. You can't hide from me. People see me as I act, applaud me as I speak.

You can't hide from me.

You may believe me to be your noble leader, ready to stamp out corruption and chaos wherever it may be. That I am a good, pure organisation, dedicated to the eradication or evil wherever it may hide.

You're not wrong.

I am dedicated to good, purity. And you, my loyal servant, are impure. Your blood is tainted by that which is unclean, unholy. You are chaos.

And when the witching hour comes, we will be there, pitchfork in hand, to eradicate that which is meant to be eradicated.

And you will be alone, trapped inside bars of silver, your freedom taken in the name of justice. A crime in which the end result matters little, as we have turned even your staunchest followers against you. Against what you stand for.

Against freedom.

Your family speaks to you...

I am your worst nightmare, come to life. You can't run from me. People see me as I give, hear me as I pity.

You can't run from me.

You may believe me to be your judging family, wishing they had drowned you in the river rather than have you as such a terrible son. That I am a cruel, biased group, raised against people like you, trained not to love.

You're wrong.

I am your family. I am glad we did not drown you, even if you are what you are. Sure, I get angry at you, annoyed at the extra work load you force upon me. But I would not trade it for the world. You are my son, my brother, my cousin, my nephew. You are one of us, and I stick to my own.

You will be supported, surrounded by pillars of gold, your strength drawn from the support of others. You are a pillar, taking the load from others even as you have your load taken from you. The end result matters little, as we have given you new life, power where previously there was none.

Werewolf.