The Transcendence

Have you ever gazed into the abyss?
Have you ever given yourself away to utter madness?
Have you ever died by deliberately injecting venom in your veins?
Have you ever swallowed your will to live?
This is how I became me.

I'd rather pull my teeth before trusting in anyone of you again
I am cynical and I am cancer hearted.
I believe you all should kill yourselves.
Hell is right inside me
And I do know you're not prepared for this
Take a look in my sanguine eyes and you will see
My heart is cancer
Hell in me.

Talons may protect, but are too weak for my heart, they are destroyed too simple
And there's a sickness that they could not bear inside my chest: this pulsing cataclysm.
With every beat my heart's defeat is approaching and so it's devolving
Into a catastrophic force of self-destruction, self-deconstruction
Catharsis and purification were not enough to cleanse this abomination.
Sewing up my eyes and mouth will not stop the darkness from breaking out.
Bury my body now, bury it deep
Lay this mind to rest, let it finally sleep
Whoever I have been, I'm never coming back again.
Bury this body now, bury it deep
Lay this mind to rest, let it finally sleep
And pray that whatever I have been is never coming back again.
I can barely sense my own existence, though I feel that the Thaumaturgist still lives in me
His scythe is drenched with the blood of our dying parade.
His mouth is twisted, a horrific grin. Mirroring the terror of his existence.
He is mocking, beckoning the Hellkeeper to afford him admittance. Admittance to the world beyond, to the macrocosm of withered presence.

I gaze into the cosmic abyss...
My dying soul is devoured, I dissolve entirely.

Absolute nothingness engulfs me. Not just silence. Nothingness. Noises are being noticed, being felt by my brain, but are not occuring in reality. Visions of scenarios which have never happened are taking place inside me. Wars are fought, men die, women flee. Children cry. I observe the scenery atop of myself. Atop of disorder. Atop of chaos. It passes by and fades, the door is closed. Nothingness engulfs me again, I am close to utterly losing the perception of myself. The spheres of space, time, and existence are drifting apart, their bonds severed by the scythe of the Thaumaturgist.
I am a soul, not my own.
The Thaumaturgist allocates me without a single move. His gaze is pure madness, his eyes mirror the Void and start to flicker above his intensifying state.
"Mortal One", he whispers. "You've spent your life searching for ransom, you've spent your life looking for a way to escape your marrow, to change your core. You've spent your life hating your heart, you've spent your life trying to escape yourself, your innermost part. You fabricated a guardian. An entity of such trivial significance, my inferior servant dissolved its weary essence within the blink of one of my thousand eyes. Your Mist Creature... what a pityful attempt to play God. It almost amused me to hear its death rattle, yes. I have to thank you. Your unending endeavours to forge a new fate for yourself nourished me. Haven't you ever wondered where all the strength came from in your darkest moments? Did you really believe, your own will or faith gave you the means to continue breathing? Haven't you ever wondered why everything you touched, breathed and had left was Sanguine? Foolish mortal! I was the guiding hand behind your misery, and I was the guiding hand behind your triumphs."
The Thaumaturgist elevates the sanguinarily-coloured left sleeve of his cloak. Instead of a hand, a black, cadaverous tribute doll with threads becomes visible. With a blink, the Thaumaturgist cuts the threads and annihilates the doll underfoot. I see my vision fade, as a shroud of naught starts to cover my fading remains.
"Yes... feel the Void taking over. I almost detest to see you die, Mortal One. You have been such a good marionette to me. But I guess that everything must come to an end sooner or later.
Where is your Hellkeeper, Mortal One? Nowhere to be found. He is bound to the sphere of existence, which you and I are no longer part of. The spheres are loose, severed. This is transcendence, Mortal One. Endless catharsis. No Hellkeeper will come to save you. No Mist Creature will come to end me.
Albeit, the attempt would be futile. I do not plan to leave this place alive. The grand macrocosm of naught, the Void is finally here. We are both nothing. Just like all creatures and things are nothing now. Time has turned to nothing. Space has turned to nothing. Everything has turned to nothing."
A diabolical grin dances over his face again.
"I sense that you still wonder what I am, Mortal One. I am the Negative. Oblivion, death, torture, war... all these states are nothing against me. Ordo ab Chao, Mortal One. Order out of chaos. The spheres are purified again. The worlds have been redeemed. The apodictic judgment you wished for has finally been granted to you. And not to you alone. To every being. Your terror ends today, Mortal One. Close your eyes. This suffering is over now. This sphere of Void shall be our grave and ossuary."
I end, adrifting from the Void Sphere. With my last exhalation, I can feel all the severed spheres crumble and fall off of Subsistence.

It is impossible to state how much time passes or if it passes at all, for the sphere of Time has fallen off of Subsistence. Even the sphere of Existence has fallen off of Subsistence. Void reigns.
In this ubiquitary state of nothingness, my floating condition is touched by the feeling of a distant, primal voice, speaking broken words of a language yet unknown to me. The feeling fulfills my condition, I am engulfed once again, yet unable to describe its graciousness. Sounds of brutality and beauty all the same touch my... mind-like consciousness. My inexistence starts to tremble afront on the evidence of this new, omniscient identity.
Before, atop and inside of me stands Venetrae, the Mistress of Creation.
"Find thy eyes, Enlightened One. Open them to me and I shall give back enlightenment to them as well. Thy soul, thy world has suffered enough under this dark, thaumaturgic Usurper. Thy era of severance shall be over now. Thy state of suffering and inner hell shall be overcome. Open these gates again, Enlightened One. The spheres have been reunited, the Reapscythe has been unmade. The Usurper has been banished and shall be so for the duration of one thousand worlds. He who sows Chaos shall remain in the Void. Open these eyes, Enlightened One. Thine life has been granted to you."
The feeling fades. I feel my existence taking shape, coming to light again.
As I open my new eyes, bright colours embrace me. I start to be again. Finally, I am.