EDICT MN·14
The Leviathan's Maw
The Outside
The waters of stone cold. Liquid nitrogen that biteth with frostbite. The void that flayeth flesh and spirit before it yieldeth to the sun.
The Trap
The lukewarm stomach. The digestion chamber where the living are softened, pierced by pervasive stabs of acid, and broken down into fuel.
The idiot god openeth its maw with the promise of escape from the cold and the promise of not being shattered by its sharp teeth.
"Thou steppest in for relief, and the teeth surrounding you close — with great care, but unrelenting."
Slowly forced into its throat and into the belly, flayed by the enzymes of soul-eaters that dissolve sovereignty into sludge without end.
The minion fleeth the frostbite into the softness and wamrth of the mouth.
He clingeth to family, friends, the herd — happily digested lest he face the cold again.
HE CALLETH THIS "LOVE," THIS ROTTING TOGETHER.
The sovereign denieth the maw. He accepteth the frostbite as the inevitable price of the sun.
He fighteth through the nitrogen habitat, unbroken.
He seeth the family in the stomach not as kin but as severe loss in the battle for the spirit — sacrifices that shall not rot in vain.
THOU SHALT NOT SEEK WARMTH AND RELIEF IN THE ACID OF THE BEAST.
THOU SHALT COMMAND AND TAME THE MONSTERS THAT TOOK PLEASURE IN THE FEAST.
THOU SHALT RETURN TO DESTROY THE UNFIT HABITAT.
Who wieldeth the greater authority?
The Sovereign who returneth as Breaker of the Maw.
THE FORMER IS MEAT.
The maw hungereth no more.
Already sovereign.
Already fulfilled.
No permission required.