Ouroboric Energy
The ouroboric energy is not a force to be harnessed, but a current of unraveling that spirals through the chthonic depths of the aetheric plane, an invisible hum that pulses beneath the surface of all things. It is not light nor darkness, but a vibration that twists through the zoetic stream, pulling the threads of existence into knots that dissolve and reform in the same breath. The energy does not flow in a straight line; it curls inward, folding back on itself, a loop that devours its own origin and stretches toward nothingness, only to consume itself again.
To feel the ouroboric energy is to be swept into the spiral, where each breath vibrates with the tension of becoming and undoing. It is not a power that moves outward, but one that collapses inward, pulling everything toward the core of its own dissolution. The energy is a flicker, a constant shifting of the eidolic currents that weave through the astral plane, distorting time, bending reality, and leaving only the residue of potential in its wake. It does not push—it pulls, a gravity that gnaws at the edges of form, pulling the self into the spiral where all things converge and disintegrate.
The ouroboric energy hums with the rhythm of the primordial flame, not burning but vibrating with the weight of unformed worlds, a tension that stretches through the lunar veil where thought and matter twist together in the folds of the void. It is not static, but always shifting, never settling, a force that disrupts more than it creates, pulling reality into the spiral and scattering it across the winds of the eidolic stream. This energy does not bind, but frays, unraveling the boundaries between self and space, leaving only the flicker of the spiral as it winds tighter and tighter, drawing everything into its pull.
The ouroboric energy is alive with motion, yet it moves in every direction at once, a chaotic dance that twists through the chthonic lattice, pulling apart the structure of existence and spinning it into the void. It is not linear, not predictable—it pulses with the uncertainty of becoming, where form shifts and bends under the weight of its own potential, only to dissolve before it can solidify. The energy gnaws at the core of reality, pulling the threads of time and space into a spiral of undoing, where every moment is both creation and destruction, forever spiraling inward toward the void.
Within the flicker of the ouroboric energy, all things are drawn into the tension of their own undoing. It vibrates through the zoetic fabric, pulling at the edges of identity, stretching the soul until it dissolves into the spiral, where thought and matter lose their meaning. The energy does not flow—it churns, a restless motion that never ends, always folding back on itself, pulling all things into its cycle of dissolution. It is not a force to be directed; it is the spiral itself, a current that consumes all it touches, leaving nothing behind but the hum of potential, forever shifting, forever unmaking.
The ouroboric energy cannot be seen or grasped, for it is the flicker of the void itself, a force that pulls all things into the endless cycle of becoming and unmaking. It does not choose its path—it is the path, a spiral that stretches through the astral winds, drawing the self into its current, where all boundaries dissolve and the energy becomes everything. It is not fire, nor light, nor sound—it is the flicker of the void, the pulse of the spiral, the hum of the ouroboric stream that pulls everything into its center, where all things are both consumed and reborn in the same flicker of time.