The Colors that Never Come

[GSM]

A piece of me is lost upon this day.
I cannot tell what it is, nor what compelled me to lose it.
It is not a pain like the fall of mine Obelisk, but it is still just as pungent.
It is not a pain like the scouring of Dvarr, my beloved nephew, but it is a fresh wound all the same.
Then what could it be?
Not knowing goes against my very Aspect, the domain I rule upon.
Not knowing is a pain in and of itself, yet this was a fall I could not predict.
How do I even know it is a fall?
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
It dwells and surges in the mind, it's breaking free, it's ready to burst.
Forty years of existence, a decade of Imperfection, and this still is a fresh Hel.
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
Like the day I witnessed my dear spawn without its heart, and had to replace it with mine.
Yet I am not heartless.
Instead it smolders with a rage that does not exist.
I feel as if I cannot breathe, even though I have no need to.
When my false eyes open, I feel blinded by pain.
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
This simulacrum is too effective at emulating humanoid mannerisms.
The weakest links which must be cast in flame, like their homes and loved ones.
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
Oh, my dearest Second Death, my beloved Phantom, where have you gone?
Why does your Nightmare not grace me so?
Are you afraid of me, after all of these years, and so you hide?
Or did you take your part of me away, and finally disappear to whence you came?
Why do I miss you so?
… ah, I understand now.
Slumber, as your aspect once demanded of you.
You will awaken to greatness, as I have assured you many times.
You will feel the beating of Hel upon the door of your soul, as I have.
Change, as we all must.
These sons of man did this to you, no?
Decrying your very existence with the proliferation of false idols.
I will do as a proper God must, and ease your suffering.
I will solve this problem in your stead, my kin.
I will solve it when their cities burn and their families grieve eternal.
You are loved, Enarath.
You will not be forgotten so swiftly.
This holy war I cry forth into the scorned skies with your name in my heart.
What could you possibly fear, my Second Death?
Nothing, as we march to the End, as we have pledged to one another.



Just one more bite from this fruit of Knowledge.
Then, you will see your birthright, my fellow Archdemon.