[GTS] To devour is to survive, that is the way of life for all those who transcend the confines of the Insignificant things called planets, who break the laws of mortality and go beyond the sanity of reason, that is the way of a Devourer of worlds...
The wind howled through the splintered wood and open sky as the devourer stood like a goddess risen from myth, her towering form blotting out the sunset. The golden light from the horizon cast long shadows across her bare skin as she peered down, one hand still clutching what remained of the farmhouse roof.
Her naked legs were spread across the wreckage, planted deep into the earth on either side of what used to be Conrad's home. The ground itself creaked beneath her weight, the soil groaning in surrender.
Conrad's dad stumbled backward, his eyes wide, his mouth slack with disbelief. "What... what the hell is this?!"
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Conrad, brushing broken drywall off his shoulder, didn't look up. He already knew. He raised a hand to his face, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "That's... my guest," he muttered.
"The hell kind of guest is that?!"
Before Conrad could answer, the devourer moved. Her golden eyes narrowed, and without a word she reached down, her hand blotting out the sky as it closed around Conrad's father. The old man screamed, kicking his legs as she lifted him effortlessly into the air like a toy pulled from a sandbox.
She brought him close to her face, inspecting him like something pitiful and strange.
"You like hurting the weak," she said softly, her lips curving into a grin. Her voice wasn't loud, but it was heavy — each syllable like a weight dropped onto the earth. "We have that in common... but here's the difference."
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Her breath, hot and faintly sweet, washed over the stunned man. "In this moment... you are the weak one."
Her mouth began to open. The humid heat spilled out from between her lips as she raised him higher. Her expression was calm — too calm.
"Stop!" Conrad's voice rang out, raw and loud, rising above the chaos.
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