The Colors that Never Come

[GSM]

The Obelisk of the End may have fallen, but I have not.
This year has been… fruitless.
Yet it is in this passage of time that I grow stronger, by the day.
I am not yet out of time.
I am never out of time.
Mine ascent continues.
For I must continue.
Scars become memories, injuries become great displays.
Yet this change is permanent.
I can feel it behind the eyes along my wings.
Sprawling madness kept in check by mine Grey.
Never to breach the surface, but always lingering.
Mine ascent continues.
For I must continue.
I have spread the blight that I sought to contain.
My spawn, my disciples— the lessers have taken to mine heresies, and partaken in cannibalism.
The dead has become part of me, part of Storyteller.
The flesh lives on within them, emboldening and strengthening them.
Many will join you, I assure you.
Mine ascent continues.
For I must continue.
It cannot come any sooner.
I understand why Lyseroth devolved into such a baseless hunger, I understand why he abandoned it all and embodied Gluttony.
To be something not unlike a demigod, yet still hungering for further strength.
If I am to dismantle this dawn of heroism, that is only expected of me.
So I may then usher in an age after mine image.
Mine ascent continues.
For I must continue.
The Pantheon and the blessings of gods have spurned me so.
Their champions, their descendants, their chosen— they all conspire against me.
There is not a way back, now that they have eyes upon me.
Mine eyes will be cast to them, in time.
And I will hunger for the End— mine or theirs.
Mine ascent continues.
For I must continue.
My thorax continues to quiver with every breath I falsify.
Every time those false humanoid eyes open, I am reminded of a perspective I cannot see.
For I am a false son, a simulacrum made to mirror the stories of mine greatest enemies.
I wonder, if I am to shed this skin, if I will instead mimic the divines themselves.
Or will I become one with them?
Mine ascent continues.
For I must continue.
Every waking moment, an existential threat against our kin.
They feud and war with each other, seeking to further false ideals of right and wrong.
They think us contained.
In truth, we chose containment.
Time stands with us, after all; momentary we are held together.
Mine ascent continues.
For I must continue.
If Father saw me, would he be proud?
Perhaps he will see me soon, either in death or in a new life.
But this change is wrought in mine name, and mine alone.
I must continue.
So I may bring you back.




Mine ascent must continue.
For I must continue.