Carved in the Perfection of Ophistu

Chapter 14

There was no blink, no twitch, not even when the demon Nebetu'u's head hurled the foulest curses. Yet it was precisely within that void that danger lurked, an inhumanity veiled in human guise.

Then, it appeared; a slow-turning golden circle above the head, neither crown nor halo, but a divine gear, a noble metal rotating soundlessly, emitting a faint light that bore the full weight of eternal wisdom. Each movement affirmed hierarchy, cementing that Ophistu was no mere lowly angel.

Once, they had stood beside the Accursed One, witnessing the formation of divine plans, until all was shattered by a great betrayal.

A cosmic conflict.

The golden gear spinning above was not merely a symbol of judgment but also a declaration, proving the Accursed One's rebellion was no oversight, but a deliberate choice by the Almighty, cast aside, weary of being ignored after the war.

Ophistu's chest lay bare, perfectly exposed without a single thread of clothing, only sealed by two seamless white cloths fused to their body like a second skin. The first wrapped tightly around the waist, draping down to conceal the lower half, its stiff folds unmovable even when battered by wind. The second stretched diagonally from the shoulder, covering half the torso in an unnatural drape, as if bound by invisible hands. White light bled through the fabric, too bright to behold, too pure to touch, yet carrying pain so piercing it wounded any who gazed upon it.

Ophistu's feet were not human, not cloaked in ordinary flesh, but encased in pulsing white radiance, folding and refracting in a glare that tortured the eyes.

Nebetu'u, the two-headed child with one eye on each face, flinched, squeezing shut the male head's eye as silent tears fell. That light was too cruel, too alien, each beam registered as a blade, sharpened to slice through retinas. Worse, Ophistu's form was no mere body, no shape meant for mortal eyes; their very presence was punishment for the observer.

Every motion left no shadow, displaced no dust, as if the world rejected even acknowledging their existence. The white cloth never rustled, refusing even to stain, remaining immaculate in its agonizing perfection. They were the herald of the Accursed One, the God deliberately erased, forced into oblivion, now risen with vengeance layered in curses.

"You think this a game? You, who hide behind His words, groveling in the dust beneath His throne. We come not to debate. We come to sever."

"The decree was not for you, Nebetu'u, the Balance's Paragon. Yet listen, for this is the voice of the Unspoken."

"The sky knows its collapse is ordained—the dim shroud no reflection of averted light. Written in the scrolls of fate, unread by mortal minds, the stars' extinguishing is a sign, a signal for open thought."

"As inscribed in the Book of Sustrawinanti, Scroll 4100, Verse 4."

"Once more, praise the mercy whispered unto Him."

"Radiance? Is this it? Merely a prison's snare, a humiliated subordinate. Blessings behind such light are chains. And we—we are the liberators from the Wretched Sovereign."

"Through Our mouth, all things flow. We shall make the weeping rain for every river fleeing its source. So too shall rebels find their steps but amusement, their dance homeward a warmth they will never comprehend."

"Thus It Is Inscribed in the Book of Xakoromnstahuth, Scroll 8, Verse 9990.

"Your name was never forged to destroy, Nebetu'u. Only to play your part in this despised dance."

"No less."

"Mark this well, O Tearer of Flesh. To stand in the boundless as a mere dancer."

"And yet, we are the lava, the embers that will scorch this stage to ruin."

"Even fire bows to the wind We exhale. Your ruin, too, is revelation—verses signed long before breath was first drawn."

"Too much carved upon futility?"

"It takes not one or two angels to judge."

"As poured forth, neither lacking nor exceeding, in the Book of Andamaredashuka, Scroll 4554, Verse 100."

"And remember—there will come a time when the hollowness of your twin heads does naught but underline how petty your rebellion was, how easily overturned its design."

"Whenever and wherever We will it."

"Allow this humble servant, as the prophet who fulfills Him."

"Fulfill it."

The orb of light across from them pulsed, unyielding, the focal point in a chamber thick with hymns and sacred invocations. Nebetu'u stood rigid, their two-headed form—one male, one female, a grotesque silhouette against the radiance.

Wild hands clutched something like a pendulum, yet not a pendulum. Fingers twitched around the object ceaselessly, as if trying to etch this moment into eternity, to shield themselves from the glory before them. But the male head could not suppress the tremors, frequencies vibrating from hairline to ribcage. Its eyelids fluttered, flesh prickling as if scourged by terror... or awe too immense to bear.

By any measure, it defied logic.

Around the luminous core, the air quivered with whispered prayers, coiling like incense smoke, holy to believers, yet like knife-grooves in the ears of the damned. A trumpet's blast split the dark, its echoes chased by chants that flooded every crevice of the chamber with fervor.

Enough to intoxicate.

The female head remained still, unblinking, staring straight ahead at something beyond mortal sight. Beneath that gaze, the body, its unity undeniable, began to shift, step by step, as if drawn by an invisible magnet toward the light, even as the male head shuddered.

Longing to flee what cannot be resisted.

The luminous ring pulsed again, alive as some colossal heart pumping not blood but indefinable power. Each throb sent pressure waves through the air, hissing against the walls until the very chamber resonated at its frequency.

Only bones and marrow could feel it now.

Nebetu'u, in all their grotesque duality, stood alone at the ritual's epicenter. Any others, if they had ever been there, had long dissolved into the light, overwhelmed by a force too vast to defy. At last, the male head bowed, no longer able to withstand the weight crushing its mind, while the female remained erect, lips curved in a faint smile, as if privy to a secret never to be spoken.

A voice, ragged and cold, tore from Nebetu'u's throat, often echoing like the scrape of a blade.

Gouging the earth's darkest layers.

The words came disordered: sometimes the female began softly, only for the male to interrupt in a guttural hiss, or vice versa.

Like two rivers clashing, each fighting to claim the other's delta.

To be continued…