
my friends are gone. maybe she killed them. maybe they accepted the door. i accept nothingness knowing ill remember none of it onto the surface of skaia i weave a constellation of viscera made from the bodies and limbs of anything that lives or breathes upon it. it is like a vast, interconnected spiderweb of gory glob goop glibs gaping down like an insidious maw ready to eat this miserable planet whole. i cut the chains of the moons of prospit and derse and grab them in their weightless momentum and slam them against the land itself. the celestial body contorts its shape oblong, spheroid, pear-shaped, and squash meloned at every impact i bestow. i let every star witness my infantile tantrum spreading endless pain smeared like sauce on tile for the world to know. i burn, and i burn, and i burn, and i burn, and when the wick ends i immolate in the depravity of my carnage and then, when im satisfied; when nothing but the stench of fear wafts through every crevice, cave, and hiding hole of every wretched creature robbed of potential in the same way i was. then, and only then, do i raise my hand up high and accelerate time to tomorro

