You’re dead, you realize. You’re bleeding out. You’re fading away. You close your eyes. And. Every. Thing. Goes. Black. You open your eyes, but they were already open. If you thought about it, you’d realize you don’t have eyes. You don’t think about it. You are there. Not you-you, but something wearing your face, your body. Two somethings, and the painful absence of a third something. One is disgusting, its-no, each of your orifices bleeding a black sludge that fades into smoke. You have no eyes. The other is painfully, beautifully radiant. Every orifice revealing a searing bright light, like you are a cut out to that one. You have no eyes. They promise to help you, yet hurt you. They may have given you powers, but you get to decide what to do with them. They ask for an introduction, when everything finally clicks. They have no eyes. You laugh, and reveal to them what you’ve realized: “You can’t actually see, can you?!”
You wake up on a grassy knoll, rot surrounding you. Your powers are your own.