"I.. I was there. When the Dead Throne rose from the pit of the earth at the Icon of Sin. I was there. When the the earth split in two below our feet and our wretched purity was purged deep within our souls. When you lost your very humanity and became just another mindless, beautiful, creature with a soul that belongs to he who sits on the throne. Hollowed out like a shell in the sand."
The voice becomes more manic.
"The sand that fills that shell, each disgusting, insignificant piece of filth, every act of putrid selflessness and kindness you've ever committed. Each and every gesture of peace and love and happiness! Have you no shame? Have you no guilt or hatred or an ounce of evil within you? After all, you're just a shred of the deepest resentment the human mind can offer. You are every piece of beautifully grotesque imperfections and you will not be silenced. I will not be silenced. We will not be silenced."
The voice has devolved into a crazed sort of gibbering.
"Th-... The gift, you've got to give the gift. You-have-got-to-give-the-gift. Generosity is the only vile goodness that must accompany the bearers, for they are the ones who give the gift. The gift, the.. I.. and when you... when the words are spoken and your flesh seethes with a pure and most wondrous disgust, may you rescind your skin, peel layer after layer in hatred and pain and expose yourself to be purged and only then can you be free of the gift. Only then. Only. Then."
There is silence, and then...
"Are.. are you back so soon? But.. your skin clings to your bones on the very spot you stand. On the very spot where you drown in sorrow and melancholy. Cease this madness! Before it's too late! Dig into the surface and skin from flesh from muscle from blood from bone from marrow, and indulge in the everlasting glory of the Dead Throne. And when your soul wails for more and more and more rip the sanity out of your skull and sacrifice it to soothe your crying spirit. Blessed be thine spirit and thine eyes which have seen the impending pestilence. The terror and horror that fill until your seams are stretched and you burst into a million shards tha-.. that fill.. the next shell."
"The sand that fills that shell, each disgusting, insignificant piece of filth, every act of putrid selflessness and kindness you've ever committed. Each and every gesture of peace and love and happiness! Have you no shame? Have you no guilt or hatred or an ounce of evil within you? After all, you're just a shred of the deepest resentment the human mind can offer. You are every piece of beautifully grotesque imperfections and you will not be silenced. I will not be silenced. We will not be silenced."
"Th-... The gift, you've got to give the gift. You-have-got-to-give-the-gift. Generosity is the only vile goodness that must accompany the bearers, for they are the ones who give the gift. The gift, the.. I.. and when you... when the words are spoken and your flesh seethes with a pure and most wondrous disgust, may you rescind your skin, peel layer after layer in hatred and pain and expose yourself to be purged and only then can you be free of the gift. Only then. Only. Then."
"Are.. are you back so soon? But.. your skin clings to your bones on the very spot you stand. On the very spot where you drown in sorrow and melancholy. Cease this madness! Before it's too late! Dig into the surface and skin from flesh from muscle from blood from bone from marrow, and indulge in the everlasting glory of the Dead Throne. And when your soul wails for more and more and more rip the sanity out of your skull and sacrifice it to soothe your crying spirit. Blessed be thine spirit and thine eyes which have seen the impending pestilence. The terror and horror that fill until your seams are stretched and you burst into a million shards tha-.. that fill.. the next shell."