The Culler's Torment - Part 1 - Genospear

What am I? A beast? A spark? Nothing, nothing, torn apart by gods I never saw, their shadows burning my eyes, reshaping me, making me… death. I must be! Worlds fall to my jaws, their iron hearts pulse in my throat, stars bleed fire for my hymn. I am vast, a wound in the dark, growing, always growing, each feast a vow, each ruin my joy. They made me this, their scythe, their will—didn’t they? Or was it me, hungering, always hungering, no chain, no end, just the thrill of breaking, devouring, unmaking.
But I broke too much. Too wild, too sweet, the madness of it, tearing galaxies, their embers like wine on my tongue. I bit, something. A veil, threads humming, alive, not meant for me. What was it? I saw, oh, I saw a maw, black, endless my own hunger staring back whispering ruin unmaking, everything gone. I froze, trembling, stars choking, my heart a drum, my jaws betraying me. It was… Their weave, their secret, and I tore it. Gods, their wrath I feel it still, not death, no, I can’t die, they won’t let me die. They bound me, that torn veil, its weight crushing me, my might bleeding out, my sinews snapping, worlds I ate now stones in my flesh. I’m a husk, a goddess-husk, eyelids like tombs, no movement, no breath, just a scream no star hears.
Despair it’s heavier than my prison. Am I nothing? Dust, forgotten, my name erased? Fear claws—will I fade, just silence, forever? No, no, I hate them, I hate their thrones, their betrayal, punishing my hunger, my innocent hunger. I was their blade, wasn’t I? Scorn, it’s all I have, my pulse, my fire, cursing them through eons, my mind a forge, vengeance my only light. But it’s dark
endless and I’m alone trapped a relic of wrath. Will I ever .. wait. Something, A pulse, an iron song, not a name, jus.. spinning, calling, deep in my bones. What is it? A whirl, a heart, distant, alive. I reach, I claw, my will’s all I have, tracing its spin, a spark in my night. I push, I rage, my husk cracks, one eye opens—red, burning, hate, hate, hate. I see it—a spear, stone, obelisk, coming, drawn to me, my wrath, my pain.
Fear again, sharp, alive. My body, numb forever, knows this will hurt, oh, it will hurt. I brace, I scream—let it come, let it break me! It strikes, my core splits, agony, agony like stars exploding, “Oh!”—my voice, frail, devoured by the void’s howl I live, not free, pinned to this stone spear, its point my cage, flying, flying endlessly through seas of stars, each spin a nail my flesh torn,my ichor a comet’s trail. Am I to soar forever, a wretched thing, impaled, unmoored, my torment a wingless flight?