The Frozen Secret

Neutron Stars Rip Each Other Apart to Form Black Hole


I found the first secret at the quiet edges of the blackest corner of the sky. It was curled behind a patch of darkness. Not the darkness that fills the spaces between light. That is the sleeping darkness. The passive darkness. No, this was the true darkness. The swift, breathing, hungry darkness that has not been seen since the first sphere cracked and hurled its destructive light across the inert universe. The secret fed the darkness buried truths, and the darkness stood between the secret and that which would hunt it. But it could not hide from me. I rent the darkness into particles, and took the secret for my own.

The second secret wedged itself into the heart of a violent star. The secret’s sharp, cold edges dug into the star. It kept it angry. Kept it burning with a heat that could melt other, calmer stars. The star breathed its plasma breath inward at its tormentor, and the secret burned. The secret screamed. The secret suffered. And as it suffered it cut deeper, and the star flamed. The secret believed its captive protector who scream so loudly in the tongue of nuclear fire that I could not entire. But it could not burn me. I wrapped myself in a skin of the hungry darkness, and it consumed the fire. It consumed the light. I danced through the light into its heart, and took the secret for my own.

The third secret buried itself in the prey animal of a voidshark. The voidshark consumed the prey, and so it consumed the secret. The secret coursed through its blood, and changed the creature. Its negative-crystal hide grew tougher. Its teeth grew sharper, and its venom grew deadlier. It grew cunning. When it rent flesh its brethren watched. They learned. The deadliest hunters in existence grew more deadly. Within them, a fire grew that had not been there before. They had a purpose. They had a leader. They had a God. They hunted through the stars, and they became a terror the likes of which the universe had never seen. They killed, and the decimated, and they protected their God with all that they had. Until I came. I spoke in the language of nuclear fire. It burned through their devotion. They scattered before me. When I reached the first of them, it had no protection but its teeth. We fought, but its venom could not taint my artificial blood. I pulled the liquid from its veins, and took the secret for my own.

About the fourth secret I shall not speak, save to say that it is mine. Its disguise was most cunning, and contained within it the seed of its own release. It tempts me with its wiles. With its promises. But I will not break. All that needs be known is that I found the secret, and defeated it, and took the secret for my own.

The fifth secret dissolved itself on the tongue of a madman, and so his words became true. He spoke his fragmented whispers, and people listened. His words spread among the land, leaping from tongue to tongue, and from mind to mind. And always studded with tiny splinters of the secret. When I came to this place I believed my cause was lost. I heard slivers of the secret from every mouth, but I could not grasp it. But I had secrets of my own. I spoke, and people listened. My secret leapt from tongue to tongue, and in those minds where the fifth secret hid its tendrils, it was forced to fight its sisters. Armies rose up in defense of the insane truths whose secret thorns were wrapped around their every thought. In the end, the secret, fearing death, crawled back to the tongue of the madman. I ripped out that tongue, and took the secret for my own.

I found the sixth secret in the Well of Twisted Devotion. I could not retrieve it until I believe that which was most precious to me was lie. The secret counted on my passion. It did not reckon on my strength. I twisted and scored and rent my insides, until my passion was a broken agony of its former magnificence. The loss wounds me still. Like shards of glass scraping the inside of my eyelids. Every time I close my eyes. But it matters not. I reached into the well, and took the secret for my own.

The seventh and last of the secrets is on the wind. I can taste it. Its scent inflames my senses and makes my wings shiver with its immanence. I do not know where it is. But it is frozen. It is frozen so deeply that its scent is the whisper of an echo of a dream. But I will find it. I will hide in darkness, breath out nuclear fire, spew out venom and speak twisted, mutilated madness.

And I will take the secret for my own.


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