#ultrakill selfship

Hierax,

Even here—beneath the weight of Hell, beneath endless stone and blood and the laughter of a cruel universe—my thoughts return to you as naturally as breath. I have pushed mountains until my hands split and my resolve was ground into dust, and still, somehow, loving you has remained the easiest rebellion I have ever committed.

Do you remember how they warned you about me? A heretic. A king who refused to kneel. A soul too loud, too angry, too alive to belong in Heaven’s neat little order. And yet you chose me anyway, my radiant angel, slipping through the cracks of eternity just to sit beside me. You called it treason. I called it a miracle.

When Heaven fell and its promises shattered, I expected you to stay behind—to be spared, to be safe. But you ran. You cast yourself down into damnation not because you were forced, but because you loved me. That choice… it still shakes me more than any punishment Hell could devise. You turned your back on perfection for something broken and defiant, and I have never felt more worthy—or more terrified—of devotion.

Do not think for a moment that I see you as fallen, Hierax. You are no less divine here than you were among the clouds. If anything, your light burns sharper in the dark. You remind me why I rage, why I endure, why I refuse to accept a universe that demands obedience over love. If eternity insists on torment, then I will make of it a testament—and you will be written into every line of it.

I will push my boulder forever if it means knowing that at the end of each futile ascent, I can look to you and remember why I began. Hell may claim my body, my crown, even my future—but it will never take my heart. That belongs to you. It always has.

Stand with me, my angel. Let Heaven regret what it cast aside.

In defiance and devotion, Sisyphus