Metamorphosis [Cthulhu]

Irregular updates. This is the original concept for The Great Evil God Who Came Back to Life. If you're interested in the eldritch god setting, check it out in my author profile~ Its past was a larva. The colorful mountain range winding around the edge of the universe was its body. Even the largest planet humans had discovered by pushing science to its limits was nothing but a grain of sand crushed beneath its writhing belly. Its future was a butterfly. With every beat of its wings, one spacetime perished and another was born. It shook off tiny scales, and brilliant colors of light and shadow stretched across the universe as entirely new clusters of galaxies began to shine. Its present was a silent cocoon. The present was the endpoint the past could never reach, and the origin the future could never return to. It was eternally imprisoned at the intersection of endpoint and origin, its body and spirit melting apart as a chaotic slurry churned without end. If one day you wake from a deep sleep at the buzz of some insect, or think you see a shadow flicker past even as you walk beneath the blazing sun, pretend nothing happened. I don't want anyone else to be forced, as I was, to understand this truth: How laughable are impregnable cities and invincible weapons. Ignorance and blindness are humanity's greatest shields. * Tonight we journey to Nanshan. Liang's grave lies just ahead. The four men set down the sedan chair, and Yingtai steps out to pay respects at her brother's grave. Yingtai cries, "Brother Liang, listen to me. Show your might from the underworld. Let your spirit reveal its power!" Thunder cracks, and the tomb opens at the command of a sacred spirit. The black wind rises a thousand feet, the tomb opens, and a pair of butterflies emerges. Lyrics from The Butterfly Lovers * Yang Dafang married a woman surnamed Xie. She died before she could be buried, and a butterfly as large as a fan appeared. Purple-brown in color, it fluttered back and forth from the bed curtains to the windows, then finally left at day's end. I once wrote a poem to mourn her: "A butterfly transformed in the curtains, a dream come true; a lonely phoenix in the mirror, grieving in vain. I blew my jade flute until it was spent, but no one came. The fragrance that brings the dead back is nowhere to be found in this world." This is also a true account. Miscellaneous Notes from Guixin Classic cosmic horror, the kind where we all rot, stink, and go mad together, quite literally. Theme: Humanity is small and ignorant, but there are always people driven by curiosity to raise their heads and walk toward chaos