The Womb Of Cinder by H_Kverse at Inkitt

Story Notes

In H_Kverse, power is a fluid. It must be poured from one vessel to another through acts of extreme passion, violence, or submission.

To “receive” is often as powerful as to “give.”

All beings in this universe are cursed with a Moth Drive—an irresistible urge to seek out the very thing that will destroy them. Whether it is a Black Flame, a forbidden lover, or a god’s foot, the end is always a beautiful, burning death.

High-level entities eventually outgrow the concepts of Male and Female. In the poems, gendered language is used as a tool for pleasure, but the spirit beneath is a singular, hungry force that transcends the binary.

Feet and legs are sacred symbols of the Traveler’s Burden. To worship the foot is to acknowledge the long, agonizing path a soul has taken through the ash to reach its destiny.

Each poem is a Living Sigil. It is whispered in the universe that reading these verses aloud can summon the gaze of the characters described.

Read silently, or risk being seen.

Summary

"The world ended with a scream, a shudder, and a wet, heavy thud." Welcome to the Womb of Cinder, the ritualistic heartbeat of the H_Kverse. This is a separate sanctuary of shadows—a collection of explicit, aggressive, and rhythmic scrolls dedicated to the entities that haunt the ruins of existence. Here, the ink is mixed with bile and black flame. Each rite is a visceral portrait of a different sovereign. The martyrs, the foot-soldiers of the void, and the harlots of the high-heavens who wait in the dark for their turn to be sung. This is a book for those who find beauty in the bruise. It is for the seekers of the Hard and the Soft, the Giving and the Receiving, and the Divine and the Defiled. You will not find heroes here. You will only find those who have survived the fire—and the fires they started in others. Strip your skin at the door. The Womb is open. The Cinder is hot. The H_Kverse is waiting for its next sacrifice.

Genre: Fantasy/Poetry

Author: H_Kverse

Status: Complete

Chapters: 9

Rating: n/a

Age Rating: 18+

Rite I : MOTH, OH MOTH

RITE I

Oh The Fearful Blooms of Cinder,

Beseech the Power of The Blade,

Damn The Fragile Marrow,

Dance with The Flame of Lust...

Fuck The Womb of The Cursed.

Cut The Soul of The Moth,

Moth, Oh Moth, Oh Moth,

Grasp The Breast of The beast,

Free the Soul from Pain,

Dance in the pot of Flame,

Fuck in the pot of Flame.

Gorge on the Afterbirth of Gods.

Strangle the Prayer in the Throat,

Milk the Venom from the Wound,

Sodomize the Shadow of the Throne.

Drown the Saint in his own Hot Piss,

Rip the Tongue for a Silent Kiss,

Skin the Sky, Bleed the Moon,

Moth, Oh Moth, Bleach the Loom,

The Womb is a Tomb,

The Bride is a Loon,

Moth, Oh Moth, find the Pyre,

Cum in the Ash of the World on Fire.

Moth, Oh Moth, Oh Moth,

Burn your wings on the Sun,

Dust to dust, the web is spun,

Lay your eggs in the Casket,

Feed the grubs on the Ghost,

To the Flame, we are kindling,

To the Dark, we are host,

Shackle the Ghost to the Meat,

Tear the Silver from the Vein,

Piss on the Altar of the Flayed,

Rape the Logic of the Sane.

Suck the Marrow from the Sun,

While the Bastard Stars all weep,

The Rose Order is a Corpse,

And the Maggots burrow deep,

Moth, Oh Moth, the Wick is Bone,

Burn the Sight from Sightless Eyes,

Mount the Beast of the Ruined Dawn,

Beneath the Weight of the Clotted Skies,

Vomit the Soul into the Dirt,

Birth a Terror from the Scab,

Take the Blade of the Fallen Saint,

Moth, Oh Moth, Oh Moth,

And Stab, and Stab, and Stab.

Wallow in the Guts of the Grace,

Smear the Seed on the Brow,

The Church is a Kennel for the Blind,

And the Beasts are Feasting now,

Drink the Menstrual Blood of Stars,

Breed the Nightmare in the Lung,

Speak the Word that Ends the World,

With a Black and Severed Tongue,

Peel the Scalp of the Ancient One,

Nail the Shadow to the Floor,

The Virgin is a Vessel for the Void,

And the Void is a Raging Whore.

Crack the Ribs of the Universe,

Strip the Spirit of its Skin,

The Only Law is the Primal Itch,

The Only Truth is the Sin,

Moth, Oh Moth, the Fire is Dead,

But the Cinders still Crave the Heat,

Grind the Teeth of the Dying Gods,

Into the Dust beneath your Feet,

The Flame is Out, The Womb is Dry,

The Moth has Burned its Eyes,

Moth, Oh Moth, Oh Moth,

Now Fuck the Dark until it Screams.

And the Last of the Silence Dies...

THE WOMB OF CINDER

Story Notes

Summary

Rite I : MOTH, OH MOTH

Chapter Notes