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The ancient words carved themselves into reality before they reached her ears.
Xho'rrnath… Veyrr'kul Osshtraa…
Each syllable struck like hammer blows against her skull, reverberating through bone and sinew. The avatar of the skin god pressed her palms against her temples, but the chanting pressed deeper, worming past flesh into the very core of her being.
It was form the masks on the left
Nha'gholoth Threxivor… shael-keth… shael-keth…
The being moved across the obsidian plain ahead. Not walked, not stalked, but moved in ways that defied the basic laws of how things should exist in space. The three pale masks that adorned its transformed head caught the sickly light that emanated from the black glass beneath their feet. Its form was draped in flowing robes woven from shadows themselves, the fabric rippling without wind. Six arms extended from its torso, each one too long, too thin, wrapped in bone and sinew covered by that same shadow fabric.
Her knees buckled. The terror wasn't hers. It belonged to something primal, something that remembered when gods were young and the universe still bled from its birth wounds. The fear of complete annihilation flooded her system, turning her saliva to acid and her muscles to water.
She dropped.
The sword of Pure Horror whistled overhead, missing her by mere breath. The blade didn't just cut air. It severed space itself. Reality split along the path of the weapon, creating a wound in existence that revealed the hungry void beneath. For one impossible moment, she glimpsed the raw chaos that lurked between dimensions before the universe rushed to heal itself, stitching the tear closed with threads of fundamental law.
Her hands shook as she scrambled backward across the smooth obsidian surface. The volcanic glass was perfectly flat, stretching endlessly in all directions like a black mirror that reflected nothing but darkness. She had consumed the obsidian god's essence, absorbed its power into her divine core. This entire realm belonged to her now. Every grain of volcanic glass responded to her will.
The obsidian beneath her feet began to shift and flow like liquid shadow.
She thrust her hands downward, and massive spires of black glass erupted from the plain, rising like twisted towers toward the being. Each spire was sharp enough to pierce divine flesh, hard enough to shatter bone. The volcanic glass sang as it moved, creating a symphony of crystalline notes that should have been beautiful but instead carried the promise of death.
The being stepped forward with deliberate slowness. Each footfall sent spider web cracks through her obsidian spires. She couldn't look directly at its three-masked face. Her mind refused to process the geometry of its features. But she felt its attention like hot metal pressed against her skin.
The spires shattered. Not from impact, but from the mere presence of the being walking among them. The volcanic glass of the obsidian god, crumbled like dried leaves at the entity's approach.
Urr'vhaemith Phor'thuun, Krrisshhh-Haem!
The chanting grew louder, more insistent. The words tasted of copper and burnt offerings when they touched her ears. She pressed herself flat against the obsidian surface, feeling the cold glass bite through her torn robes. Blood seeped from a dozen shallow cuts she didn't remember receiving, staining the black mirror beneath her in spreading pools of crimson.
She would not be helpless. Not here. Not in her own domain.
The entire obsidian plain convulsed. Miles of volcanic glass rose into the air, forming a massive wave that towered thousands of feet above them both. The weight of it should have crushed continents. The shadow it cast plunged their battlefield into absolute darkness. She brought it crashing down with the force of a collapsing mountain range.
The being raised its weapon. The bone sword caught the strange light that seemed to come from within the obsidian itself, but the reflection seemed wrong, as if the blade existed in slightly more dimensions than the rest of reality. It swept the weapon in a single, casual arc.
The wave of obsidian simply ceased to exist. Not shattered, not deflected. Gone. As if the volcanic glass had never been there at all. The plain reformed beneath their feet, smooth and perfect, as if her greatest display of power had been nothing more than a child's tantrum.
Ssyrr'thol Vhruum-pex… Vhruum-pex… Vhruum-pex…
She ran.
Her bare feet slapped against the cold glass as she sprinted across the endless plain. But now the obsidian responded to her terror, rising up in protective barriers, creating walls and fortifications that sprouted from the volcanic glass like crystal flowers. She wove between them, using her dominion over the realm to create a labyrinth of black glass around herself.
The being followed with measured steps. Time bent around it like light around a massive star, giving it all the speed it required. Each barrier she created crumbled at its approach. Each wall became dust. Each fortification dissolved into nothing. Her absolute control over the obsidian plain meant nothing to this entity. It walked through her domain as if she were a child playing with toys.
She gestured frantically, and the obsidian beneath the being's feet turned liquid, trying to trap it in a pool of molten glass. The being simply continued walking, its footsteps somehow finding solid purchase on the flowing volcanic rock. She hurled spears of crystallized obsidian, each one sharp enough to pierce the heart of a star. They shattered against its robes like raindrops.
Ghraemoth! Phyrr'kesh! Onn'vraal!
The chanting followed her across the barren expanse. The words seemed to have weight now, pressing down on her like invisible hands. Her legs wobbled with each step. Blood ran freely from the gash on her shoulder, leaving a trail of red droplets across the black mirror that stretched beneath her feet.
In desperation, she reached deeper into the obsidian god's power. The entire plain began to reshape itself, forming a massive arena with walls that stretched toward the sky. She created armies of obsidian warriors, each one carved from volcanic glass and animated by her divine will. Thousands of them surrounded the being, their glass weapons gleaming with deadly intent.
The being paused for a moment, studying the obsidian army with what might have been mild curiosity. Then it raised one of its six hands.
Every single warrior exploded simultaneously. Ten thousand of divine craftsmanship reduced to glittering dust in the space between heartbeats. The arena walls followed, crumbling like sand castles before a tide. Her absolute dominion over the obsidian realm had proven as fragile as morning frost.
Ekth'uun-Morru, Veyrr'quoll, Shhrryyk-Kethos…
The being approached with deliberate slowness, savoring the moment. There was no need to hurry now. She had thrown everything she possessed at this entity, had unleashed the full power of a consumed god, and it had all been swept aside like cobwebs. The obsidian beneath its feet cracked with each step, creating a web of fractures that spread outward like frozen lightning. Its blade rose in preparation for the killing stroke, runes appearing along its length, writing themselves in a language that predated human civilization by eons.
She tried one final gambit. The obsidian plain itself began to fold and twist, reality bending as she attempted to trap the being in a maze of impossible geometry. Volcanic glass flowed like water, creating spirals and loops that defied three-dimensional space. She poured every ounce of power from the obsidian god's essence into this last desperate attempt.
The being simply walked forward in a straight line. The impossible maze parted before it like curtains, the folded space straightening itself at the entity's approach. Her mastery of reality itself proved meaningless against whatever force this creature represented.
That's when she realized the chanting was coming from her own mouth.
Xhuuul-phorrr! Xhuuul-phorrr! Hhhh... hhhuuul-Phorrrr!
Her lips moved without her permission, forming syllables in a language she didn't know she knew. The words poured out of her throat like water from a broken dam, ancient and terrible and necessary. Each phrase sent vibrations through her skull that made her teeth ache. The obsidian beneath her began to resonate with the chanting, creating a low harmonic that seemed to come from deep within the volcanic glass.
She tried to stop, tried to press her hands over her mouth, but her body no longer obeyed her commands. The avatar of the skin god had become a conduit for a curse that was devouring her from within. The chanting wasn't a prayer. It was a spiritual poison, each word dissolving another piece of her divine essence into nothingness. The obsidian plain began to pulse with each syllable, not with summoning power, but with the fragments of her soul that were being torn away and scattered across the volcanic glass.
The being paused, its weapon wavering. But not from uncertainty. From frustration. Its three masks tilted slightly, studying her with what could only be described as cold calculation. The chanting continued to flow from her lips, growing faster and more urgent, and with each word, she could feel pieces of her divine soul tearing away like pages from a burning book.
Shael osshtraa, shael osshtraa, shael osshtraa…
Her vocal cords began to tear. She could feel them shredding with each syllable, the delicate tissue unable to handle the power flowing through them. Blood filled her mouth, coating her tongue with the taste of iron and salt. Still the words came, using her voice as a gateway for something that should never be spoken. But worse than the physical pain was the spiritual agony. Each syllable was ripping away fragments of her essence, her divine consciousness dissolving like salt in acid.
The being stepped back, not from concern, but from annoyance. One of its six hands reached toward the center mask, touching where human features had been preserved in that eternal expression of defiance and rage. It wanted to kill her. The desire radiated from its form like heat from a forge. But the cursed chanting was preventing the final blow, not by protecting her, but by destroying her soul piece by piece. but now she will died by the hand of curse of the left mask instead.
Veythar Morvexis, Entroplaaahh…
She could feel her divine essence unraveling. The ancient words weren't summoning something external. They were consuming her from within, each phrase eating away at the core of what made her a god. The obsidian beneath her began to crack in perfect geometric patterns, but not from summoning power. From the pieces of her soul falling like rain onto the volcanic glass.
Her throat convulsed in agony. The vocal cords snapped completely, leaving ragged wounds in their wake. She should have been silent now, unable to make any sound at all. But the chanting continued, resonating through her bones and organs, using her entire body as an instrument of its own destruction. The words seemed to bypass her ruined throat entirely, emanating from the very essence of her being as it slowly tore itself apart.
The being raised its sword again, desperation now clear in its movements. Not desperation born of fear, but of hunger. It wanted her dead by its own hand, wanted to claim the kill, but the cursed mantra was stealing that satisfaction. Every second the chanting continued meant less of her would remain for it to destroy. The bone blade descended in a perfect arc, aimed at the space between her neck and shoulder. The weapon moved so fast it left a trail of displaced air that whistled across the obsidian like wind through a graveyard.
She couldn't dodge. The pain had paralyzed her, turning her muscles to lead. The sword would cleave her in two, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Through her terror, she could see the runes along the blade pulsing with malevolent light, hungry for divine blood. The obsidian beneath her reflected the approaching weapon, creating the illusion that death was coming from both above and below.
At the last possible moment, driven by pure desperation, she reached up and grasped her own lower jaw. The bone cracked under the pressure of her fingers, sending fresh waves of agony through her skull. With a sound like breaking pottery, she wrenched it sideways and down, putting all her remaining divine strength into the motion.
The jaw tore free in a spray of blood and tissue. Teeth scattered across the obsidian like pearls from a broken necklace, each one making a tiny chiming sound as it struck the volcanic glass. The chanting stopped immediately, cut off mid-syllable as if a switch had been thrown. The curse that had been devouring her soul collapsed instantly, the spiritual destruction halting just before it could consume the last fragments of her divine essence. The obsidian plain went dark, no longer pulsing with the scattered pieces of her being.
The being's blade swept through the space where her head had been, but she was already falling, her body finally giving in to the accumulated damage. She hit the obsidian hard, her ruined mouth painting the black glass beneath her in spreading crimson. The lower half of her face was now a crater of torn flesh and exposed bone, but she was breathing. Somehow, impossibly, she was still alive.
Silence filled the obsidian plain. Even the being seemed frozen, its weapon still raised in preparation for a strike that was no longer needed. Its three masks turned slightly, studying her broken form with what might have been curiosity. The immediate threat had passed. Whatever she had been summoning was no longer coming. The ancient words had been silenced before they could complete their work.
Through vision blurred by pain and blood loss, she watched as the being slowly lowered its bone sword. The blade's runes flickered once more before going dark, as if disappointed by the interruption. Its six arms moved with fluid grace as it adjusted its grip on the weapon, the motion somehow conveying both satisfaction and profound irritation. It had wanted to be the one to destroy her, not watch her soul tear itself apart.
She tried to smile with what remained of her mouth, but the muscles no longer worked properly. It didn't matter. She had survived, even if survival meant lying broken on the endless obsidian plain with half her face missing and most of her soul scattered like ashes in the wind. More importantly, she had stopped the curse before it could complete its work of total spiritual annihilation.
The being turned away from her broken form, apparently satisfied that she posed no further danger. Its footsteps echoed across the obsidian as it walked away, each step sending new cracks through the volcanic glass. The sound somehow seemed more human now than it had been during the hunt. The shadow fabric of its robes trailed behind it like liquid darkness, and the wing-like structures on its back folded slightly, making it appear marginally less imposing against the endless black expanse.
The avatar of the skin god closed her eyes and concentrated on the simple act of breathing. Each breath was a victory, each heartbeat a defiance of the death that had seemed so certain moments before. The divine essence within her core was already beginning the slow process of regeneration, though it would be hours before she could even attempt to speak again, and days before her jaw would grow back.
In the distance, she could hear the being's footsteps fading as it continued its patrol across the endless obsidian. It would be back eventually, she knew. This respite was temporary. But for now, she had time. Time to heal, time to plan, time to prepare for the next encounter. And most importantly, time to gather the scattered fragments of her soul before they dissolved completely into the volcanic glass.
The taste of her own blood filled what remained of her mouth as unconsciousness finally claimed her. Even in the growing darkness, she could still feel the echo of those terrible words reverberating through her bones, waiting for another chance to be spoken. But she had learned something valuable in those moments of involuntary self-destruction. There were curses in this universe that could unmake even gods, word by word, soul fragment by soul fragment.
And she had just barely escaped having her divine essence completely devoured by one of them on this endless plain of black glass.