Devotion

[CW: descriptions of severe burns, extreme gore]

Red, inflamed, cracking, bloody; the pain sets alight the screams that emanate from Devo like the buzz of fly swarms that gather round his still-living, eternally-rotten, charred corpse. It crawls itself through the forest floor, what remains of its fingernails digging into the innocent moss, tearing it apart.

One more step. One more breath. One more second. All you need to reach her, all you need to continue living, just one final touch and you can let go.

No.

No.

NO!

Let go? H̸̰̽Ä̶̧̘͍͆H̷͎̱̹͐̚Ả̵͕̂H̶̺̃͐̐Ä̷̜H̷̟͕͈̐Ȃ̶̻̰ No. Reach her and you won’t let go, you will ascend!
Lying in each other’s arms, warm sun will envelope you b̴̨͚͓̔͋̕ǫ̷̧̰̖̌͛t̵̬̯͆͌̀ͅh̸͇͋̅̓̅ͅ, every second that passes ẁ̴̛̭͎͝í̴̹̐l̵̯̬͂l̶͉̔̔ be everlasting bliss!

This was it; infection, near-death. This was the final push you needed to make you shed your cowardice – peeling away layers of skin and hesitancy – now you can finally prove your devotion to her was as full and complete as the moon that hangs above you, a guiding light, a mere backdrop mimicking a fraction of ẁ̵̰̄h̴̻̆̈́a̶̩̓̑ͅt̸̩͒ ̵͉̜̂ṣ̸͗ḣ̶͙̓e̵̩͙͝ ̴̟̞̀i̶̪̚ş̷̈́̎ ̴͚̃.

Putrid creatures walk this earth, all those in the B̶̪̤̓͊ă̶̹̆ͅṡ̵͖ṯ̸͗î̶ͅo̶̪̻̾n̶͎̠̋, they suffer in squalor and pitiful, deserving, darkness; whereas you, you suffer in delight, you pay penance with a black-toothed smile. Thanking her for your life as your blood mixes with the earth and shrieks scratch their way out your throat.

Nothing will stop you from reaching her.

Black threads emerge from your skin, tugging you forward, an everlasting, deathless march.
With each desperate pull, each spark of advance falls on already charred kindling: the horizon keeps itself at constant distance from you; forever out of reach, always.

Silver wire flashes white in the moonlight. You tug – nothing happens, again, and again, and again, never breaking, never letting go; H̷̻͚͑a̴͝ͅͅ.̸̧̛̦̫̃̎.̶̨̘̑̉͂.̸̺̎͗͠ ̶̪͈͈̈́͘̕H̷͓̜̀̇͜Á̴̠̏̄.̷̗͂̑͝ͅ.̸̦̙̘̀̂.̴̙̄́̅.̵̤̳̐ ̶̧̔͊͑H̸̡̎Ă̶̬̪͋̂H̸͍̉͛͒A̷̛̟K̶̞͕͎͌À̵͙̓͘C̴̳̥̎̌̕J̵̺̌́Ķ̵̖̳̏̎A̶͉̣͌ . It was such an easy trap to fall into, Ą̵͙͑͋Ȁ̶̡̛Å̸̞A̴͇͍͝Ä̷̞̲̮́͌̾A̶͉̞̔A̷͙͕͗Å̵͎̜̆̔A̷̝͊̃Ǻ̸̛̰̲̜A̶̙̲̜̅Ȧ̷̪͖̉Ā̴̳̕͝A̷̺̳͂. You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve to be kept from her, trapped, bound. Not like this, no, no, no, please, my darling, set me free; the silhouette in the distance reaches out to you, but does not move, for she can’t, not without y̶̢̮̩̟̑ö̵̜́̀̐ȕ̶̡͓͎̘̗̾̽̍͝.
Your muscles strain until they pop and fade as your body gives its hopeless last-stand, thrashing as it fights the fire in your veins. Spasms rack you as your body tears itself apart, blood runs from the cracks in you ‘skin’ like rivers, a viscid black. This is not how it ends.

“I won’t let it end, my love,” echoes in your otherwise empty mind.

This line you straddle, this state you are locked in for eternity: it is not quite death, without her it is not life, you live somewhere cruel, somewhere in-between.

A skeleton twisted in wire can be found in the woods, surrounded by small, blue flowers.

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