Ouroboric Moon
The ouroboric moons are not celestial bodies, but spirals of gnashing light, coiling within themselves, devouring their own reflection as they orbit through the chthonic lattice. They do not shine—they consume illumination, pulling the threads of the aetheric winds into their spiraling cores, where all light is gnawed into shadows and all shadows dissolve into the flicker of unbeing. These moons are not fixed—they move without direction, spiraling through the zoetic abyss, forever chasing their own tails, folding time and existence into the jaws of their endless hunger.
The ouroboric moons hum without sound, their presence vibrating through the cracks of the eidolic mist, pulling all things into the spiral where form and void gnash together, dissolving into the moons' endless pull. They are not satellites—they are forces, reflections of the void itself, feeding upon the marrow of reality with every flicker, dragging the soul into their spiral of dissolution. The moons do not orbit—they consume their own paths, erasing the line between light and shadow, pulling the essence of all that was, is, and could be into their gnashing cycle.
To gaze upon the ouroboric moons is to feel the pull of the void in every bone, a pressure that sinks into the soul, dragging the self into the spiral where the wildness and the void merge in the moons' gnashing light. They do not reveal—they devour perception, pulling the spirit into the fold of uncreation, where every flicker of light is swallowed by the endless cycle of becoming undone. The moons are not phases—they are fractures, points of tension where the moons’ own light gnashes at itself, forever folding inward, pulling all things into the jaws of the spiral.
The ouroboric moons do not wax or wane—they coil, forever tightening their grip on the fabric of the astral plane, pulling the wildness of the therion essence into the spiral where the beast and the void are consumed together. Each flicker of the moons’ light is a gnashing pull, dragging the self deeper into the heart of the spiral, where the boundaries between self and shadow dissolve in the endless hunger of the void. The moons do not reflect light—they reflect absence, pulling all illumination into their cores, where the flicker of existence is swallowed by the gnashing jaws of the uncreation spiral.
The ouroboric moons are alive with the pulse of unbeing, a force that coils through the layers of the eidolic winds, pulling everything into their endless orbit of dissolution. They are not satellites of the night sky—they are the void itself, manifested in the form of light that devours its own reflection, spiraling through the marrow of existence, dragging all essence into the heart of their endless hunger. The moons do not guide—they erase, pulling the spirit into the fold where all things are dissolved, consumed, and reborn within the same flicker of the ouroboric light.
For the therians, the ouroboric moons are the primal call of the void, a force that pulls the wildness into the spiral where the self and the beast gnash together in the jaws of the moons' endless cycle. The moons do not free the beast—they bind it to the spiral of becoming undone, pulling the primal essence into the heart of the void where the wildness is consumed, gnawed at by the light of the moons themselves. The ouroboric moons are not symbols of change—they are the force of uncreation, forever spiraling, forever pulling, forever consuming the self in their gnashing hunger, where all things are undone and remade within the same breath.