And when it comes, wrapped in the silver foil and black wire of fever dream, it comes as a flood. Slipping in and out of consciousness, an ebony unicorn with a laser horn, gritty red light arcing through the void.

When it falls, and it always does, it lands as a ring of fire.

In those moments when intent is lost and action prevails, when the snake and tiger are one in thought, in motion, and there is a harmony found only at the end of a blade.

In these moments, you look up at the stars, and you're gone.