I have hunted my prey for eons—the game never changes. They always plead for mercy. Sometimes I kill them quicker, if their squirming amuses me. The persistent ones, the ones who claim my threats empty, the ones who stand against me proud, proclaiming their immortality, their divinity; those are the ones whose limbs are severed, whose skin I peel away and whose screams I relish. My body is satisfied when they sustain me; my soul is satisfied when I see the last of divine life flicker from their eyes, their widened eyes.
My maw, ancient, gaping, drips at the thought of consuming the weak. My stomach is bottomless, an ever expanding pit longing for more. On darkened wings I soar through the vacuity of this eternal blackness, the void between worlds. It’s surprising how frail the dimensional walls are; how easily my clawed appendages shred the veil between my existence and theirs.
I take a step into benevolence—the brilliance of this city of gold, bathed in sun upon a sea of clouds is slightly overwhelming. I regain composure and continue the hunt. I leap towards the golden gate, and ascend its luminous poles. The prey does not notice my arrival, and rarely notices my approach till I am scraping their innards out from the depths of their bodies. At the top of the gate I perch, observing all from all perspectives. The sky is filled with the incantations of winged cherubim. My approach must be kept unannounced. They all must be stricken down.
Where I was, I am no longer. Where I will be, I won’t be there much longer. Slashing in and out of reality, I drag the cherubim into the void, puncture the chest with barbed tail, sucking out their essence and leaving them nothing more than hollow shells. In what seems like seconds the incantation of life dissolved into a psalm of absence. I descend back to the top of the clouds after the massacre. The hunt continues.
Prowling amongst the hordes of the dead, they watch me with keen eye. Yet, they lose disinterest quick, and go about whatever it is the mortal spirit occupies itself with in death. I care not for them, and they for me: their power, even amassed, will not fuel even the slightest of my hunger.
Up ahead is a brilliance unlike the city behind me: it shines with divine fire, and the radiance of the throne throws its illumination upon my ashen form. I am noticed; the seraphim, wreathed in flame, are stirred into a frenzy. Before they can even strike, I’ve already torn them asunder. The prey looks on in awe. I can feel his fear. But I also sense his arrogance.
You dare to enter the Kingdom of God and desolate its denizens? Abomination, cease your senseless violence or suffer eternally by my wrath.
I twitch slightly. My head turns to face the one called God; I wait for his move, as I hang my jaw low and salivate from God’s overwhelming power.
You cannot kill what has existed longer than yourself. I am above all. And you will rot in hell for all time.
This is my favorite part: where they believe they can kill me.
As he opens his mouth to speak I’m already behind him. I sink one clawed hand into the roof of his mouth; with another, I pierce through his holy tongue and lower jaw. I could have just held it like that, gaping open, but I love the sound of snapping bones and dislocating joints to not dislodge his jaw from his head. Now fully open, I look right into the depths of his eyes, watching the horror force them to dart around from side to side, vying to get away. But when I want something, it’s already mine.
I open my own mouth, an orifice of evident death. A serpent reeking of doom with jagged hooks where scales should be slithers out of mine and into his, writhing down his throat, tearing up all from within. He struggles; I laugh. Once all that was inside of him is nothing more than liquid, I spin him around and slash his abdomen. The sludge pours onto the throne, and he falls. I quickly lap up the remains, and as soon as it had started, it was finished, and I gone, off to hunt once more.