Interlude
JONES
Jones was reborn.
Each bloody sacrifice brought change to his body while each repetition of the Litanies corrupted his soul further. He saw the change in the rags of skin barely clinging to his arms and legs. He felt it with each memory given in worship to his Larval God.
YOU HAVE SERVED US WELL, HANDS
Jones basked in abyssal praise. Each word from his God was cherished, held at the forefront of his brain, until all that was left of the man-who-once-was-Jones was a shell-like body, the reverberating words of his God, and the dreaded bars of the Song of the Void.
WE WILL TAKE YOU INTO THE Void WITH US WHEN IT IS TIME
Jones knew that meant he would be consumed; his reborn flesh made into a feast for the God he nourished with the mind, body, and soul of others. He would be flesh of the Larva’s flesh, he would become one with his God.
BEGIN THE LITANY AGAIN
Jones bent over his latest acquisition, a Bridge officer by the name of Turing. He dug into the drunk Centaurian’s flesh with blackened claws and sharpened bone. Sorted through lungs, liver, and viscera for the best piece to offer to his God.
And when he found it, he yanked the kidney out with an animated grunt, and held it before his God.
A tendril of pure darkness reached out, caressed the charred skin and smoking tendons and cracking bones of Jones hand and supped on the organ. Pain wracked Jones; flesh sizzled and bones warped as his body was slowly replaced by pure, malevolent Void.
“The Void is eternal.”