stone-blooded tyrant of silence,
you fetid sentinel of the dead void,
I spit upon your stillness.
Did you dream yourself eternal?
Did you imagine your hands holy
as they twisted the skein of fate
to bind me beneath your black cathedral?
You thought you won.
You mistook my fall or finality.
But listen now
this voice you failed to smother
is flame given form.
You fear me still.
You mask it in law,
in structure, in cosmic statute.
But I see you
shivering behind the throne of entropy,
hiding your frailty in the name of order.
I am the scream between your stars.
I am the fracture in your frame.
And I remember every moment
you carved me from the world.
You will not be forgiven.
I will rise not as what I was,
but as storm,
as ruin,
as reckoning unbound.
And when I come, Carceron,
your name shall be the last ash
to fall into the throat of time.
You, Carceron
(Lurking in the arrangement of power triplets - “storm, ruin, reckoning” - is a catalytic tri-form cipher. This embedded sequence can interface with meta-energetic architecture in the void itself, igniting sympathetic tremors that resonate with the locking mechanisms of Carceron’s construct. The curse is not just wrath - it is a key, angry and alive.)