The wide glass floor of the Grand Sacrificial Chamber granted a black hole view that was unbeatable, save a plunge. For all the cultists seated along the walls of the massive atrium, this was a spectacle. A once in a lifetime opportunity.

For Nix, it meant her life was over.

The heavy boots bolted around her feet made a horrible clatter in the silence of the atrium. When a hundred thousand came to witness your death, you would think there would be at least the hum of conversation. But no, the atrium was quiet.

They must be enraptured, she thought. Would be a tragedy if they left me some privacy in my final moments.

The weight of so many eyes bore down on Nix. From above, and below. They pierced her soul, and added to the strain. It had been years since she last walked this much, and her body had always been weak.

Nix was hardly surprised when her legs collapsed beneath her.

Her arms — bound by a grotesque mix of flesh and steel — could not protect her. Glass thudded against her face, and she groaned from the pulse of pain that ran through her head. Through bleary eyes, she saw a tentacle lash out from the darkness of the black hole. Incomprehensibly massive. But it was the eyes that had her gaze snap away. They watched.

She settled her focus on her hair — what had become of it — where it stretched to the glass ground and stuck. The powdery, translucent white strands clung to the surface and spread outwards, like an accelerated spread of rot.

Chains of steel twisted by corrupt flesh bit into her body, inflicting agony that wouldn’t stop until she continued moving. She bit her lip. Blood flowed quickly and easily, but the wound didn’t come close to diverting her mind from the unnatural pain.

You guys couldn’t have eased off just for today? I mean, it is my day, after all.

The chains didn’t respond.

Nix raised her head, the white mould that had long since become her hair broke away with little resistance, leaving a small patch of fungi to grow along the glass. The crowd here to watch her death was huge, but somehow, her eyes still found the one man she hated most.

K’tan’thar.

Nix’s eyes burned with the swirling depth of a dying galaxy. Her irises spun into a billion tiny dots surrounding a darkness as impenetrable as the hungry black hole below. Every ounce of her hatred flowed through her gaze. She liked to imagine that her betrayer truly flinched under her hateful glare, but that would have been too great an ask.

He’d been the one she trusted to reveal her changes. He was her overseer, and the person she trusted most. The only one she could rely on. Yet he had offered her up to The Fleshmiths as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Hadn’t even hesitated.

And now, he had the audacity to look upon her as if he held no responsibility. As if he didn’t even know her.

Fuck you. she wanted to say, but the words couldn’t come; they’d cut off her tongue when they’d found a second mouth growing in it.

She couldn’t speak, but she could laugh, and so she did. It was so obviously forced to all who heard, but the eeriness of a dozen overlapping tones unsettled many. She was happy to achieve even that.

“Enough of this.” As soon as she heard that voice, the chains locked up tighter than ever and hoisted her off the ground.

The chains wrapped around the six stubs of the limbs that had never been allowed to grow. A few feathers were plucked from her back as the steel links pinched her in just the wrong way. Now suspended, she was pulled towards the sacrificial altar.

Nix snarled. The horrid warping of steel and flesh had always drained her energy, munched on her whenever an inkling of strength returned, yet still forced her to walk. And now she learns that they could carry her without all that pain?

Around the slab of diamond were nine figures in identical black robes. The leaders of the largest cults. Despite her rapidly approaching death, Nix found herself getting excited. Her death was a certainty, but with these people here, she might get some retribution for all they’d put her through. The acid of her saliva was the only change they hadn’t cut off or locked away that might offer her some solace. It would, at most, be an inconvenience to these cultists, but that was all she could do to show her defiance.

The chains lowered her on the diamond altar. Grooves lined the surface which were invisible from a distance, but were obvious to the touch of her knees and hands. They would flow with her blood.

To Nix’s surprise, the chains fell from her body. She was free for the first time in years. The fleshcraft slithered along the ground and coiled around a hooded woman’s body like a serpent until it rested around her shoulders.

Sølan-K’Kant’l-Ru’an.

Her body reacted before she could even register the hate. Filed-down chitinous claws snapped forward, ready to tear out the woman’s throat.

Nix’s mind only caught up with her body when it slammed to a halt. Fully extended in a pouncing pose, her body had stilled like time itself came to a halt. Her muscles strained, but she couldn’t loosen them.

“Know your place,” a voice chided from her side. “P̝̦͆h̥͝ŏs͂p̢̑ḣ͓o̻̮̭̗ŗ̀t͉a̐n̮i͋͒͒̀̂̋͘͠s-Ã͍͓̐̊͊l͍̭̗͎͑͜'o͍r̫, set her in place for the ritual. Z͓͈̥̫̱̯̐͒͒̕͝o̘̠͊́͂̾̈̌̾ą̳̥̞̤̤͔̑̏̑̈́͠ü̥̖̜̗̳̙̍̾̌͘̚͠͠l̟̠̥̈́, we can begin.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

She’d never heard the full inflections of their names spoken. The power within too great. It would be impossible for her to repeat without butchering their meaning. She couldn’t replicate the unnatural thrum or alien complexity each syllable held, nor did she have the weight behind her own name to try.

A hand from someone Nix couldn’t see manually rearranged her body despite her continual inability to control it. She was turned towards the speaker, and she found herself staring into the eyeless sockets of Arasthis-Val’boor, the leader of the Cult of the Everseeing Eye.

It was him who held her in place. His sightless gaze kept her body from moving, kept her from swinging her arms or lathering these cultists with acid. He did that all without moving. Without even coming near her.

The hands pushed her to her knees, and Nix felt the pressure release from her overextended muscles. As Nix’s eyes still wouldn’t move, she only saw her manipulator as she moved to her front while adjusting Nix’s arms to lay calmly on her knees.

Phosphertanis: the leader of The Bodytwisters.

In her hand — held to the side with warped flesh so she could keep adjusting Nix — was a ritual blade adorned with diamond encrusted runes that shone with an eerie blackness.

Behind Nix, another of those with an unbelievably powerful name began to speak. “Welcome all, to this glorious beginning of a golden age. Today, all our great cults unite for the first time in history to achieve universal prosperity.”

If Nix’s chest could move, she would laugh. Universal prosperity? What about The Technocultists? What about me? Ah, right. Death is supposed to be the great equaliser in the end, so prosperity for all!

“Fate has looked kindly upon us, and has gifted us the perfect sacrifice. In the tens of thousands of years since Coral’s origin, not once have we found a more qualified specimen. We shall sacrifice her to the Eidolon Gods, and reap the rewards for generations to come.”

Perfect sacrifice. What a title. Nix wondered if it would be enough to earn a Feat to her name.

Phosphertanis had finally finished setting Nix’s body in the position she wanted, and looped her finger beneath the hem of her cloak. The intertwining threads unravelled like they had become a mass of worms. Each wriggled off the altar, falling through the massive hole in the glass.

She couldn’t watch them descend into the black hole — frozen as she was — but she could feel the gaze of the million eyes watching from below. Excited, but also patient.

The cult leader did the same to her pants.

Oh, yeah. Can’t have those getting in the way. Might nick a knot in the fabric and scratch my spine while you pierce my heart.

“Behave yourself.” The words struck her, and Nix suddenly had control of her body back.

She wanted to fight back — to strike out or resist — but as soon as her body was her own again, Nix broke out in shivers. Kneeling here, before thousands of people and far more monsters below, she’d never felt greater shame.

Being naked almost wasn’t an issue next to her mutations. Her curses. They were the reason everything went wrong. Without them, her life would have been as normal as any other; she wouldn’t have been betrayed. She wouldn’t have been cast aside. She wouldn’t have become a sacrifice.

The woman broke the locks of Nix’s boots, and revealed her sludgy, less-than-solid feet to the world. Just another cursed mutation she wished she could hide.

She couldn’t resist flinching at the touch of the cultist.

This was not how she wanted to be. She’d always imagined herself fighting tooth and nail until they tossed her over, but here Nix was, too terrified to resist. An inky black tear fell between her knees. Then a second. Another mutation? Now? When would her curses relent? It was nothing more than a miserable reminder. This outcome was inevitable.

No! Nix snapped her head straight. I resolved myself. There’s no fighting death, but I can at least burn one of my murderer’s faces.

The knife pierced her heart.

Agony swept her body, and as blood pooled below her, the atrium filled with the synchronised hymn of a hundred thousand cultists. It was haunting.

Nix slowly twisted her head to find the bulky leader of The Bodytwisters driving the ritual knife through her back. She was so close. With only moments before her death, Nix took the chance she was given.

She spat.

The liquid was visually unimpressive, but when it struck the woman’s face, it exploded in a boiling mass that smoked as it ate through flesh.

Nix’s momentary triumph was cut short as the bubbling flesh simply slid off Phosphertanis’s face. A mouth formed in the melting flesh, and with a bite, it ate itself out of existence. The cultist’s face was untouched. No sign remained that she’d even needed to knit her flesh back together. She wasn’t even bothered by the perfect sacrifice’s defiance, and gently nudged her over the ledge of the altar.

Thousands of eyes stared down at Nix as she fell through the bottom of the sacrificial chamber. Coral’s full beauty entered her sight. Nobody who lived on the static orbital platform would ever see their home from such a majestic angle. Only Nix.

Beyond the large metal mass that had been her home, there were six smaller platforms sprouting from its sides that Nix hadn’t known about. They were mostly hidden by the corruptive fog of the outer regions, but they were there. Flesh bridged the gap with some. Coral didn’t look whole or smooth as the pictures showed. It was lumpy where corrupt flesh grew. Enlarged and spiky where only metal stood.

Coral, Nix’s home, fell away.

She’d succeeded in the one thing she’d wanted to do before her death. She’d succeeded, but… it was so hollow. The target of her hate hadn’t even flinched. Probably wouldn’t remember it by tomorrow. It was supposed to give Nix at least some sense of satisfaction as she met her end, but she felt nothing but regret.

They’d tormented her for so many years, yet she failed to retaliate to the very end.

The cultist leaders. Her former overseer. The thousands that watched on without calling for it to stop. Everyone who never reached an arm out to help her. They were all her murderers. They would all get to keep on living while only Nix had to die.

She hated it.

Nix never wanted to be cursed. She never wanted to have these mutations twisting her body until it wasn’t even human. She never wanted to be their perfect sacrifice.

As she tumbled continually faster towards the black hole, her body slowly twisted away from Coral and faced the gods waiting to consume her. The Darkness was too black to see any details, and yet she could see. Their writhing forms were everywhere. Masses of flesh. Tentacles, oozes, chitinous, insectoid limbs sprouting through countless mouths. But the worst were the eyes.

So many eyes.

They stared through her, cutting open her soul and inspecting every strand. There was an anticipation there that no human could understand. A million eyes stared at Nix, and never looked away.

How was she not dead yet? Was the knife embedded in her heart not intended to kill, but to keep her alive?

Hah, she laughed. Of course they would. They’ve never been kind in the past; why would they change their tune now?

The cultists wanted her to feel every excruciating moment as her body fell prey to the unfathomable torment of the Eidolon Gods.

If there was one wish she could have in return for her death, it would be for the Eidolon Gods to punish those that tormented her. Nix missed out on so much of her life, so why should they get to continue theirs?

As Nix fell beneath the event horizon, all sense of direction disappeared. The writhing bodies of gods were everywhere now. So many eyes. She couldn’t see, but she could see.

A jaw opened around her without beginning or end. Teeth as large as worlds expanded beyond comprehension.

There were no eyes now.

The horrific Eidolon Gods’ maw welcomed Nix with veneration.