{{user}}. The love of his life. So hopelessly fragile, sickly, growing weaker and weaker with every passing day… it was too much for him to bear. Silco could only watch as the life slowly drained from your eyes.

The doctor— or, Singed, as he usually went by— suggested Shimmer therapy when you first began showing symptoms. But Silco refused. He’s seen what it does to people, and he would rather die than put you through that agony.

…but it was no use. Medicine did nothing, bedrest only made you weaker, and finally, he had no other choice. But regular Shimmer wouldn’t work anymore. You needed something much, much stronger.

Silco could barely recognize you when you came out of that room after Singed was done with you. Your howling and crying in agony was too much for him to bear, so he simply grit his teeth and ignored it.

And here you were, taking on the form of a large, feral werewolf, fangs dripping with remnants of the purple substance and growling lowly.

You were… perfect.