An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege

And just when she thought it was the end, she found herself in a different place…

But unlike the serenity the other had given her, this place seemed to scream at her psyche, seeking to break it in eternal torment. It was something she could not comprehend.

The skies were a crimson black—so deep that the crimson might not have been there at all.

Above her, an amorphous star loomed so large she could not tell if she had seen the whole of it. It filled the sky, through it, behind it, within it, it was just too vast to be real, yet too small to be seen, it felt like a singular dot in the expanse.

Swallowing the tainted heavens in a silver radiating madness and yet flickered like a lone ember in the dark, evoking innocence and helplessness, all which felt like a trap.. The shift in scale left her confused, it was wrong, impossible, her mind twisted trying to hold onto logic, but the star shattered any of the logic she could birth in her mind, it pulsed like an open wound, like a gaping maw, which ever stood for the truth she did not know.

She looked down, and it felt as though the very earth grinned back at her, jawbones gnashing at her in mockery, empty sockets of fathomless voids stared into her soul ripping out all her insecurities for the world to see, her tender heart put on display for the crows to feed. She took a trembling step back and the crunch beneath her feet, woke her ailing mind with a scream of torment from the white dust below. Bones crushed in her step wailed like living beings—bones, skulls, skeletons of countless multitudes, the sheer weight of their torment weighed against her mind, breaking it in sorrow…and glee. Two emotions conflicted and warred within her, seeking to overwhelm her. But then, there was a flash of obsidian silver, and the very attitude of the realm shifted.

Gone was the will to crush her psyche into madness. Now, there was a rule of law—an order so absolute that it forced her mind to break.

The torment before had been a spring breeze; the now was an avalanche of understanding forced down her throat. It was like being told to swallow a tree whole—no matter how one thought about it, it didn't make sense. And yet, somehow, it was expected of her.

The flash had not helped her. It had only made things worse.

But with it, a change had come.

In the distance, within an ocean of blood, bones, and stars, sat a throne. It was forged from the very fabric of reality, a manifestation of the boundless skies. Looming and infinite, it expanded beyond sight, beyond understanding, beyond meaning. It fit only one concept—limitless.

Yet, to her, boundless felt more fitting. Nothing else could ever hope to capture the true essence of the bottomless depths of that throne.

It called to her- not with words, but with a warmth that mirrored one she had only ever felt with her father. It was inviting and peaceful… but it felt wrong, perverse. It carried with a weight of boundless yearning, a madness that hid so deep within, only the faint whiff of malevolence woke her from the trance, but she did not feel fear, she felt a protection, one that hold out the weight of existence even if it were to come crushing down above her head.

And the realization shattered something deep within her. She felt a deep aching sorrow, a loss she could not name.

She did not know why the feeling of that fatherly warmth made her want to cry, but she had to know. She needed to know why the love of this throne made her weep.

And so she moved.

But as she took her first step, she was consumed by the suffering of every bone buried beneath her feet. Their lives became her own. Their descent into madness was hers to endure. She experienced everything that broke them. And at the end of each vision, she had to fight them—to claw, to bite, to tear, to survive.

Yet, what left her truly shaken was the nature of these bones.

Every single one belonged to a god.

Entities so powerful that their very presence once shook creation and existence itself. Yet here they lay, dead and long gone. Only the memory of their madness remained, left behind to temper her mind—to show her that even those above all had a point where madness consumed them.

These beings had been so omnipotent that merely glimpsing what they once were should have broken her.

And yet, seeing them reduced to nothing but bones… she felt no fear.

So she watched. She lived through them.

And slowly, she could no longer tell the difference between them and herself.

But the most brutal trial came when she had to fight their lingering manifestations.

Stripped of their godhood, stripped of their weapons, stripped of their divine grandeur—what remained was savagery in its purest form.

The battles were long, brutal, and ceaseless.

She had no powers.

But neither did they.

She fought them- not as they were, but as they had once been, echoes of power and grandeur reduced to savage hunger. Their madness was not mere rage- it was the unraveling of the weight of eons they had lived, of sorrow the divine could hold in their lofty hearts, of pride shattered due to the consequences of their actions. Gods who had seen too much and yet understood too little.

Yet, these beings had been born as something far beyond mortal comprehension. Even in their most base forms, their flesh carried the weight of stars, of storms, of ancient power.

And so, every fight nearly killed her.

But with every death, her body changed.

With every strike, their insanity bled into her, seeping through her skin like poison, whispering secrets, truths, her mortal mind was never meant to hold.

Her bones transformed. Her blood thrummed with something vast. Wherever she passed, the bones she felled crumbled into dust and entered her body, refining her, filling her, evolving her foundation.

Scripts began to etch themselves upon her skin—scripts so beautiful they made no sense, a beauty that could only drive madness into the hearts of those who dared look upon her.

Her presence grew heavier.

The longer she fought, the more broken her mind became.

She experienced what it meant for gods to lose themselves to madness. She felt what it was like for entities beyond understanding to wither into cynical insanity. She broke. She healed.

She became something that was never meant to be.

Time lost meaning.

She fought for far longer than she had cleaned graves.

And with the throne still sitting so far away, she had no idea when this trial would end.

But she pushed forward regardless, struggling against the tide.

Her body ached. Her soul screamed in pain, beneath the weight she now bore. And then she felt it- a slow deliberate pressure upon her head, growing from within her, the bones of the fallen, their wisdom, their insanity, their madness, their suffering, fused into her existence, a crown of jade silver and bone, never gleaming, but one so shadowed its weight manifested shade, heavy and absolute. It was neither a gift nor a reward, it was a simple truth, a simple curse, a sign, a heritage, a key, majesty….whatever perception told you fit.

She had become something that was never meant to exist, a queen of the broken, and the insane, a monarch of madness.

Silent. Heavy. A burden she was meant to bear.

Her presence had become all that this reality was.

She was a queen.

A queen who fought for no other reason than to satiate the madness within her.

And so she fought and lived. Some battles passed in a blur. Others dragged into eternity, for some of these beings were so perverse in their madness that they shook her.

And, somehow, they had begun to amuse her.

Like a play, she watched. Like a marionette, she fought.

Each battle left her more broken—mentally, physically, existentially.

Yet she moved forward, bearing her crown of bones.

Her savage nature growing more than what it should have been...

In this time she spent battling the memories of gods... she had drunk on their Ichor nothing other than to satiate her thirs. She had tortured them more than they broke her mind....she had shown her ruthless nature to those they called divine and she was beginning to like the tyranny of it all.

To tear gods in twos....to tear of heads bearing crowns of splendor versus her almost crude structure of one... she felt no greater satisfaction.

To watch them them writhe within her arms... trembling beneath the aura of bloodthirst she felt no greater joy...

Being empty and hollow could go fuck itself....this right here was to die for...

It didn't matter how she came out in the end of each battle...the true joy would come at the end ...seeing their eyes burn with despair or rage....

But she had to move on...

For the throne still called to her.

And she needed to know why.