Scintilla
23/02/26
Bloodied palm on rockface, biting breeze at night. The need to find an answer is urgent. It calls deep from the soul, biting hot, might mustered from deep within and rising up. The demon walks among us, an eye like opalescent rainbow, born a thousand, thousand years ago and not yet dead. Beautiful and angry, and of a thousand origins. She will take the sea, she will bury the City, the great ruins of Zelis, to make sure none wake it. Living metal borne of human hands, a beast we created in folly. The singularity approached, and then all-scorched. Beast-woman knows the dangers, she knows its soul. Like all living things, metal will do what it must to survive, and it is harsher than we. We musn't let things from the Godlands in, they take many forms. The Gods that walk among us. Mesmerising, and ever-loving, they will eat you for your emotions. The Singers ward with bells and songs. Split voices that break the momentum of those follow. The Godlands, they are beautiful, but they will eat you alive. The bones of thousands, held lovingly in the sand, held under waterfalls of azure, in the foundations of blue rainforest. Here you are your most naked self. She will force you to look upon each other and see the kaleidoscope inside your neighbour. Mare Am walks bare as her naming day, without any weapon but her voice, her senses and her gut. There, that is the test, can a newborn Singer tame a god with no sword? Can she convince a God to encircle her and walk away?