[FEAT Seer vision] The Lost Prophet

[PolarLoLs 995]

 

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Feeble light plastered the room, the floor was carved with a wound so foul smoke seeped from each crease and blood ran along every edge. The stone was cold and rough- insects dragged caprice along each wall, corners swelled with gunk and oil, salt stung a wound ‘pon men or any imprudent. Then she would fall and fall and fall. Along the roads now she walked with a single book in hand, a crude drawing done for every realm she trot… Titanic tombs carried mysteries lugged by loud, cold and still metal beards- they beat and thrummed with life, fueled by the souls grinded through the furnaces, festering devils maintained the forms

 

Along those streets where children swung not by chairs but ropes, bodies rolled into sheets of iron, souls grinded into fuel for war. There everything was eternal yet something laid up- untouched untraveled by many who lived in this hell. 

 

Pyramids nest in a fractal infinite, unreachable they seemed yet they were not- she reached  its entrance as she did before- the key she was and to that throne she went- in only a matter of time, now wiser than when she first traveled that Labyrinth. 

 

Those doors she met once again, it has been some time. Last she was sent, now she went. The doors opened to a cruel room where pillars of flesh and bone crawled among one another in some cruel casing, an Eye gleaming down at the floor, last he had seen her flayed and weak, now she stood with loyalty and understanding.

 

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“I come before you- it has ben some time but i have not dared to tread before your throne without a reason as you’ve warned me all those years ago” 

 

Plumes of miasma swells from that terrible bloodshot hue; swirling in some indifference 'round coiled gargantuan arms unfurled into impossible shapes, 'tween static & scarlet sparks burrowing forth and recanted with the litanies thrumming through the witch's skull.
 

Time seemed to have stilled there; no beast nor thought seemed to provoke the symphonies of that hellscape; a living, writhing & breathing plane, like stretching leather & wheezing bronchial. - There came from fleshly depths a meager avian; some three eyed crow that sought to peck at the empty sockets of the witch. . And though limbs laid aimless to thwart the corvid; it soon might begin to shrivel; a thick sludge resounding in motion beneath a cacophony of popping as veins whip like descending vines; Her senses awry as logic seemed to dislodge itself from her mind & the darkness through what felt to be endless hours sought to fill the gaps of what existed beyond the emptiness of her gaze. Only when she could only grit her teeth and seethe in some impeccable hatred for her lacking condition; did it speak. "Devotion." - "Might." - "What choirs beckon me beyond the toll of your steeples and spires?" Familiar, switching; swapping voices. None of them 'human', all accompanied by some insectoid click forming melodies that grate over her mind like gravel.

 

"Weak, broken. A failed child." - "Beckoned by hunger to the stars in which my brothers lie; damned to preach words unto the disparaged. You wallow in your lacking, and yet demand answers where none more have ever been so clear.." - "Your duty is not ruin or havoc or desolation in any sense beyond what can be woven by word and whim." 

 

 It felt then- some slithering thing from within her skull, unfurling to stitch and sow away at the depths of her sockets 'till her sight is something of a blistering red, barely beading through the shapes & silhouettes of the horrors she'd deemed holy.
 

 "You are not of my children, nor do I claim you to my courts." - "But the sons of Man lie unearnest to our Truth. To their Sin." - "A thousand women blinded themselves looking to the skies as I descended." - "And for the ages after, their words would coddle the feeble minds needing direction; the devotion of these.. tribes, lies in a Slaver. - No greater proof exist than the Empires restored anew. . Already, we are familiar to them, to kneel, to wage war, to devote Kings to godliness; to believe the defier, the non believer; might only serve as offering to be purged or withdrawn. . Inspire them. Swallow their hearts and spit forth your litanies 'till they've realized their Sin.. What greater proof is there than your renewal? I am a True, and Living God; herald me and my design, herald my chosen and their mission. Raise prophets from hearts turned to the Usurper they so hate."

 

To witness once more to that sight she missed, relishing the sight of the most unholy things, Even the cursing of herself, her purpose was yet another blessing- another truth for her to realize… To understand further… her dawdle to the cliffs draw closer. It is there she saw what lacked words. Some twisted themselves and others burned, some flourished and some crumbled. . . 

 

Banners awaited hands to rise them, legions awaited the reigns to command them, A throne lacked its inheritor- waiting to be invoked.

 

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Spoiler

Props 2 @_Leyd for dialogue from the witness, the labyrinth post is apart of this one as well