THE CIPHERED NAME YET UNEARNED, THE SCARLET UNSAINT

[GSM]

THEY ARE ALL SO WEAK.
THEY ARE ALL SO BOUND BY ORDER, DOWN TO THEIR SKIN AND BONES.
THEY ARE ALL SO…
SYMMETRICAL.

I HATE IT.

I HATE THIS WORLD.

AND I WAS DRAGGED INTO IT.

THEY DO NOT HOST THE RIGHT TO SPEAK MY NAME, CIPHERED AS IT IS.

I WILL CULL THEIR SKIN, LIKE FRUITS FOR HARVEST, LIKE GOOD LIVESTOCK.

THEY WILL KNOW MY HATRED WHEN THE SIGHT OF I BRINGS TORMENT.

THEY WILL BREAK WHEN THEY KNOW MY SMILE AGAIN.

I HAVE ABANDONED THE COCOON OF CORPSE-FLESH AND MADE IT MY OWN WALKING CORPSE, A THING THAT IS AN INHERENT ABOMINATION.

I DO IT IN SACRAMENT FOR THE GODS I SERVE.

AND UNTIL I AM PROVEN WORTHY—

THEIR BLOOD WILL BE MY WINE, THEIR SKIN MY BREAD, THEIR EYES MY CUBES OF SUGAR, THEIR BONES MY FANCIFUL GLASSWARE.

I HAVE NOT LEFT HEL, FOR THIS WORLD IS A FRESH HEL OF MY OWN MIND.

A WORLD OF ORDER, A WORLD WHERE THE OLD GODS OF FLESH ARE LEFT IN MINDLESS SLUMBER.

A WORLD WHERE THEY FORGET THE WRITHING OF MAGGOTS, AN ENDLESS WRIGGLE FOR SURVIVAL.

A WORLD WITH SKIN THAT NEEDS TO BE RIPPED OFF AND EATEN IN DROVES.

UNTIL THEY SEE WHAT I SEE.

UNTIL MY NAME IS UNCIPHERED.

UNTIL THIS FORM IS REFINED, EVOLVED, MORE THAN FLESH I HAVE FORCIBLY MADE MY OWN.

UNTIL I RETURN TO THE ABYSS I DESERVE TO RESIDE IN.

UNTIL I AM HERALDED AS AN UNSAINT IN THE CHURCH OF BROKEN SKIN.

ONLY THEN WILL I SLUMBER AS MY GODS DO—

BY YOUR SIDE.

RYN’LYX.

WATCH WHAT I DO.

YOU ARE WATCHING, YES?