I Devour the Heavens’ Tribulation

No one remembers the day the sky split and bled violet lightning.

No one remembers the infant who swallowed nine bolts whole, then fell silent.

For fifteen years he was only the garden cripple: legless, mute, grey scars on his chest like dead stars.

Until the night the only person who ever showed him kindness called down a tribulation to save him.

The scars turned black.

The boy who had never walked opened his eyes and spoke a single sentence that cracked the heavens.

From that moment, every tribulation in the cosmos began to vanish mid-descent.

Lightning, heart-demons, law-annihilation storms,

they all twist in the sky, reverse, and fall toward one forgotten mountain garden.

Heaven has begun to fear something it cannot name.