They say that my kind was never meant to be.
The avians, the serpiente, the Mistari, the wolves, the lions, the falcons—all were people born and bred in this world of shapeshifters. Their cultures, their conflicts, all real and genuine, complete and fledged like the great human civilizations of the Tigris, the Nile, and the Far East.
But my kind…we were never meant to be. Were we born, or created? Formed from nothing, an experiment of the gods? No one knows. No one will ever know. But clearly we are tied to that force…
Birds, snakes, tigers, wolves, lions, falcons—all of these people have been blessed with their beautiful second forms. They don't realize how fortunate they are, how truly powerful they can be. My kind—we—are as weak as the humans, weaker even, for the humans at least have numbers and companionship. We have no second form, or third form, or fourth form. We have it all—and we have none of it. Even this human form is just one of countless others.
I don't have companionship. Not even that. Yet I am burdened with a task beyond any that anyone, human or shapeshifter, has ever encountered.
While the avians and serpiente waged their centuries-long war, a force has been growing to the South. A force greater than any that the shapeshifters can face, a force meant to bring this budding new age to its knees. I don't know if it was sent by the gods, or sprung by the demons of Hell. All I know is that Mother Earth's children—the Kiesha'ra—will not stand without my kind.
Can one stand before an army? No. I am searching for someone. Someone who can help me, who can let me work wonders. Individually, I am nothing. Together, we can stand.
I want her.
I need her.
Without her, I will fall. All of us will fall…
…to the Swarm.