LACRIMAE

Long ago, in the Age of Genesis, God reigned: an incomprehensible entity of infinite power and terror.

To gaze upon Her form was to invite madness and death.

She was wrath incarnate, unmerciful and selfish, jealous and vengeful, violent beyond measure.

Her hunger demanded constant rivers of blood, endless ritual sacrifice merely to postpone annihilation.

Incapable of satisfaction, God decreed humanity’s extinction.

A wave of pure death swept the world, scouring it clean.

Yet, a handful of souls remained, cowering in the cracks of a broken creation.

From the ashes, the desperate daughters and sons of those survivors used ancient, forbidden secrets to forge a weapon born of defiance and despair: The Spear of Longinus.

The God-Slayer.

What followed was apocalypse.

A war beyond comprehension raged as Her celestial legions, the Angels, clashed against the doomed defiance of mortals wielding their singular hope.

The Holy Lance found its mark, shattering in the process.

God was slain.

And with Her fall, silence descended, perhaps claiming every Angel as well.

But death brought no peace.

God’s colossal corpse, a continent of rotting divinity, remained a font of malice.

Poison seeped from its wounds while the very air screamed with residual hatred.

Then, from the fetid depths of God’s decaying womb, something new was wrenched free: a stillborn horror, a mockery of life that somehow breathed and lived.

She took a form both beautiful and terrifying, a human shape radiating impossible light.

This new God offered promises of love, salvation, eternal life, an end to suffering.

She ascended to become the proclaimed deity of the nascent Holy Empire, a beacon of peace reigning eternally in a heaven rebuilt upon the corpse of the old.

Ah, but who now even remembers the truth of it all.

I tell you this: within that radiant salvation fester many terrible, unspeakable secrets.

How wonderfully blasphemous indeed…