Architects of the Corpse Ash and Liturgy of the New Eden
Chronicles of the Mistress of the Star Void — Aleksandra Quartz
From the black womb of a blind universe, where worlds rot away,
Where time freezes in the lap of the abyss and ancient fires die out,
A rusty fiend emerges from the dark, bearing a cursed dead weight,
And the warp-stream swallows the titan’s spine, taken for scrap metal.
Gnawed by the radiation of stars, the torn leviathan drifts,
Layers of dead paint peel off into the freezing fog.
Seams crack there under hellish overloads, hydraulics leak venom into compartments,
And the black clot of a blind cosmos smashes the ribs of the deck one by one.
Inside the womb — a morgue and hell, plastid burns, the airlocks are jammed,
In locked cargo bays, burning alive, slaves roar, stripped of tears.
There is acrid smoke, suffocating soot, and the stench of charred human flesh —
Thus boils the biological beast in a steel, collapsed stronghold.
Someone’s blood boils in ruptured veins as pressure drops to absolute hell,
They break their nails against metal under the wild, greedy flame of the pit.
And the vacuum outside is hopelessly mute, it swallows this horrific sound,
And everyone who perished in the wreckage will release their scorched spirit here.
And above — in sterile silence, hardwired to the nerves of the ship,
Sits the capsuleer in cold depths, deaf to the screams of this attrition.
In his eyes — only numbers, fits, and isks, a dry and icy calculation now,
For the immortal mind all these lists — are just ash that the abyss will carry away.
This is no obituary — it is black magic, techno-sorcery from Snuffed Out,
They graft rotten meat into wires while enemies scream alive in fire.
From mutilated, rusty thrusters streams an emerald, poisonous light,
Above the spires of cathedral-ships burns the scorched, crimson Pochven-glare of a curse.
Vampiric beams plunge into the hull of victims, stripping shields like living skin,
And the rusty demon devours another’s life, resembling a hellish, ravenous beast.
Steel screeches, and flesh tears under the claws of the ■■■■■ risen from the dust,
From ruptured warp-capsules, corpses stretch their rotten hands toward the living.
Inside the monster spread cathedrals of bones and veins of crimson wires,
There walls breathe in absolute darkness from the groans of generations lost in centuries.
Corridors are woven from the ribs of titans, where phosphor slime burns instead of lamps,
And the slavish remains of Sansha drones, embedded in metal, stare boundlessly upward.
The rusting executioner caught the terrified victim, tearing open the egg-ark with a claw,
And the pilot screamed as cosmic, endless snow poured through the fractures.
Heavy needles plunged into the skull, burning out memory, soul, and neural code,
And the rusty fiend drank the living sanity, completing this satanic entrechat-flight.
The capsule will eject. Leaving a gruesome corpse and crumpled meat with no paint left,
It will glide through space past dead lips to where the sixteenth dawn awaits.
And the dead slag, trapped in the emptiness, where soot, grime, and biological nightmare dwell,
Will scatter in the ringing darkness like stardust, like an extinguished heat.
Over the dead star system, a ritual erupted at the junction of void and dark,
The Blood Raiders raise chalices with red gold made of planetary fringe.
Cyno-fields flared like a witch’s bonfire, ripping the fabric of space to shreds,
And the world burns alive to the demon’s laughter, trapped in sorcerous, iron vices.
The remains of ships rot alive, and these scum will leave no chance for anyone,
The Snuffed Out alliance drives a rusty claw into the primordial, blind dark.
And those who freeze in the abyss weep, where low-secs groan with no living soul,
Where billions of dead, black bodies are forever locked in the icy wilderness.
ALEKSANDRA QUARTZ > THE VOID SEES THROUGH EVERY DISGUISE!!!
STOP HIDING YOUR EYES IN THE SHADOWS OF BLACK RISE.
WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE WATCHING.