Transform: Fantasy/SF

[penthius]

I stood in the sun's X-ray, feeling my bones melt and dissolve and wondering if I would live beyond the sunrise. It had been six hundred years--on the early side, for the transform, according to the notes of those who were left behind. Many didn't risk it until a thousand years, when the odds were 80 percent of success. And we didn't even know if it was worth it. Those who left never communicated with us who remained. But they always looked--transcendent. At 600, I had only a 4 percent chance of success, according to those who documented it. It was almost suicide, but not quite. I hadn't been Catholic for 602 years, but some remnant clung.

Inspiration: A little bibliomancy, based on Eli's suggestion. The first clause is from Sometimes, After Sunset by Tanith Lee.
Story Potential: High.
Notes: This is a different take on vampires. I don't know what it is, but I am intrigued.