ANGELS ON CRACK

c u r s e d

"not a god's chosen, but a god's cursed."
-victoria aveyard

We are all born with gifts. Some possess a strength, a bravery so fierce they would do anything for what they want. Some have the pureness in their hearts, a space so vast they could fit the entire world ten times over, enveloping them in a blanket of care and love. Some have ambitions, their cunningness and drive to make the world a better place. And there are those who thirst.

The ones who do are the damned. They search for a beyond, thirsting for a knowledge, insatiable and unending. Tomes upon tomes, questions after questions, these people cannot live with a question mark hovering above their consciousnesses. They will want more, an extra bit of information, a fact, or even a just a fleeting rumor. The unanswered must face a trial, where they are to be asked, probed, and begged, for their truths.

"Tell us!" they cry against closed doors, rattling the locked doorknobs. It's the worst feeling, being blocked by the lack of knowledge, like a gap between bridges.

It is their desire to know more that destroys them. They look beyond, glossing over the hard truths, the painful epiphanies, and the cold horrors, in their search for answers. And only then, when they find it, do they stop and realize what they know.

Their want for information is a bleeding wound, a gaping, painful one. They press on, mindlessly and desperately crawling on floors and dirt, searching for bandages. And only when they press their answered prayers against the blood do they realize the darkness locked inside.

They end up knowing too much. Exposed to the cold, hard truths of the world, the cruelty of mankind, and the unforgiving curse of Fate. Their search brought them to a wasteland of desolation, a place where knowledge proves futile, and all you can do is scream at the void.

They reach the end of the world, there is nothing more to learn, to do, except relive it all. They are burdened by the cost of scholarly desire, by the pains brought on by having the knowledge of the universe at your fingertips.

They watch events unfold, history repeating itself once again, and they can only stare.

They already know how it ends.

The world in flames. Blood. Carnage.

They've been there before, tucked between yellowed pages of a book, but they won't act. No, they won't say a word. People have tried to, time and time again, and yet they all end up the same.

The world in flames. Blood. Carnage.

There is absolutely nothing they can do, but sit back. Their knowledge proves to be right again. "They all end up the same", they think, and they do.

The world in flames. Blood. Carnage.

It's a deadly cycle, the anticlimactic conclusion to their search for knowledge. The universe hangs at their fingertips, they have been blessed with the answer to everything, and yet they feel nothing.

They still yearn for the beyond, maybe a few truths hidden behind a neighboring galaxy, or a ripple of understanding resonating from the Earth's core. And yet, all they see is the answer of the universe, looped and threaded into time and space. There is no more beyond.

The world in flames. Blood. Carnage.

Soon, they understand why the greatest have gone mad.

They feel the same emptiness tugging at their stomachs, the same tics, the same symptoms of insanity entwined into their very being. All their prayers have been answered, all question marks stripped of their curved curse. They are faced with the same truth with every question that they have long ago found the answers to, an impenetrable wall of nothing. The truth is glaringly simple, yet too painful.

The paradox of knowledge rages on, picking at once brilliant minds. It is cold and unforgiving, the end of their journeys, but it is not enough. They claw and gnash their teeth at the void, until they no longer possess the strength or the will to.

One day, another word is added upon the answer of the universe.

The world in flame. Blood. Carnage. A cage.

Because now, they are shackled, enslaved by their own minds. The brain cannot hold the answer to the universe, it is much too powerful to be contained in a shell of membrane and blood.

They are bound in their books, their words imprinting upon skin, tightening and tightening, the vise of knowledge suffocating them. The words burn.

The world in flame. Blood. Carnage. A cage.

And then an already asked question appears, and the words disappear. The cells and the melanin appear to be intact. They search in their sea of knowledge for the answer, and they relax, until the ropes of the beyond return to wage war on their minds.

The world in flame. Blood. Carnage. A cage.

It is a deadly cycle, and they cannot fight it. The world goes dark, and the past and present converge with the future to answer the universe's questions. Days bleed into each other, and they slip into dark pockets of the void. Some never return, and those who do are plagued again by the cycle of knowledge, repeating on and on until they beg to go into the good night.

The world in flame. Blood. Carnage. A cage.

That's the curse of the Enlightened, knowing too much, and still wanting more.

⚜️

ik that this is far from the theme of the book but i made this months ago after i cried for hours over a fred w fic about a seer, and i kinda wanted to share it

also this was like 900 words oh my god