Fiery Skies

I was born from the Sixth Pillar of Pain, ejected naked from the mighty tower of living obsidian, its surface steadily oscillating and reaching towards the fiery sky. The light of the living world blinded me, and when I regained some of my vision, I felt compelled to look up and gaze toward the skies. There, burning with an unholy flame I could see the heaven and at that moment realize what I was staring at. For even with my mind of a newborn, I knew then that I was looking at the terrible being that had created me, that I was staring at the horrifying visage of what I would always worship as my god.

It was only later that I would learn of the history of the thing, of the being that had slain the old blue sky and taken its place, of how the beast had twisted all that was and remade it in its own image. But even now some ancient instinct within me was whispering the hints of those things, some ancient fragment from the old world that even the beast had not managed to extinguish. It was whispering me those things and telling me to run away, run as far from the burning sky as I could; but I knew I could never flee from the beast that had brought me to life. And I was not afraid, for I knew if it wanted to take my life it would, and then I would go without pain and before even realizing it.

This is my earliest memory, the memory that all those living under the unholy sky will always carry the deepest in their hearts: the memory of birthing.

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