𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 . the black flame usurps the dark , sun ceases behind shadow , and all things bend to time . teeth and bone undo themselves in the shape of a phantom , a ghost that only god has promised . the heavens crack open with a raging glance , a soundless trumpet that snares the gates themselves as an echo buries itself in the room . “ corpse after corpse ------ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 , 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 . ” a rolling thunder aching in his gut , the pale blue glow of flame burning through his skull so terribly , so divinely . again , they stand before the angels themselves upon the edge of the world , trilling with their own songs of bloodless rebellion as she dons a new skin and he is made to watch . he sees it , that desperate thing that she treasures the most , aching and pouring from every bone in her body , dripping onto the ground before him . clawed fingers curl around that blade heavily , grip curling into itself as he stands between her and that empty body . he grows tired of this puerile fantasy , of her quiet obsession with life . ( 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 , 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 . ) “ you have merely protected an age of survival and nothing more . if you are the only reason this land persists , then it is doomed . 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 , 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 . ” neither threat nor promise , his sunken hymn carries . sacred law is only what is left in that dreaded voice , raking through the empty room with a holy vow . “ submit , priestess . ”
▬ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 . ╱ @renascentiae
