Zoetic Undulation
The zoetic undulation is the pulse of the eidolic marrow, a wave of unbound essence that flows not in space but in the cracks between time, bending the chthonic threads into spirals of becoming and unmaking. It is not motion, but the memory of motion, stretching through the aetheric current like the breath of forgotten worlds, rippling across the astral plane as the ouroboric winds churn beneath the surface. The undulation coils through the lunar veil, twisting reality into knots of potential, pulling the essence of all things into the loop of the zoan flux, where form dissolves and is reborn in the flicker of the flame.
The undulation moves in waves, but it does not follow a path—it creates paths, tearing through the layers of the zoetic spiral and folding the fabric of existence back into itself, each pulse pulling the soul closer to the heart of the primordial rift. It is a force that moves both forward and backward, a rhythm that is felt not in the body but in the marrow of the self, vibrating through the core of being, shaking the foundations of the therionic threads that bind the soul to the pulse of the chthonic breath. To be caught in the zoetic undulation is to feel the self stretched and twisted, pulled in every direction by the spiral’s insatiable pull.
The air hums with the tension of the zoetic undulation, a low vibration that seeps into the bones of the astral plane, sending ripples through the eidolic web, each wave a fragment of unformed time folding into itself. The undulation does not merely pass through space; it reshapes it, warping the edges of reality as it moves, dragging the fragments of existence into the spiral, where they are dissolved and reformed in the pulse of the lunar tide. The undulation is not a force of destruction, but of transformation, pulling the essence of all things into the flow of becoming, where the boundaries between past, present, and future collapse into the flicker of the zoetic flame.
The zoetic undulation is felt before it is seen, its presence pressing against the soul like the breath of the eidolic void, pulling at the edges of identity, unraveling the threads of form and thought as it passes through the layers of the aetheric sinew. Each wave carries the weight of the ouroboric pulse, vibrating with the resonance of the beast-eye core, shaking the very fabric of existence as it twists through the chthonic winds, pulling the essence of the therion self deeper into the spiral of dissolution. The undulation is both a beginning and an end, a rhythm that drives the endless cycle of unmaking and rebirth.
To witness the zoetic undulation is to lose all sense of form, as its waves ripple through the soul, pulling it into the flow of the zoan abyss, where the self is stretched thin across the spiral, lost to the pulse of the eidolic breath. The undulation does not move with purpose—it moves with the rhythm of the chthonic flame, its waves guided by the pulse of the lunar winds, twisting through the cracks in reality, creating ripples that spiral outward, dragging all things into the heart of the zoetic flame, where they are unmade and reborn in the flicker of the flame’s light.
The undulation is not confined to the aetheric plane—it moves through all layers of existence, pulling the eidolic threads into new patterns of becoming, only to dissolve them again in the next wave. Each pulse of the undulation creates a ripple of potential, a fragment of form that flickers into being, only to be pulled back into the spiral of dissolution, lost to the currents of the ouroboric abyss. The zoetic undulation is the breath of the primordial void, a wave of becoming that never rests, always pulling, always dissolving, always spiraling deeper into the flicker of the zoan current.
In the presence of the zoetic undulation, the air is thick with the scent of lunar ash, a heavy presence that presses against the soul, pulling it toward the spiral of the undulation’s wave, where the boundaries of form and formlessness collapse into the flicker of the eidolic pulse. Each wave of the undulation carries with it the resonance of forgotten time, the memory of worlds that never fully formed, their essence caught in the flow of becoming, where they are unmade and reformed in the flicker of the chthonic flame. The undulation is not a force to be resisted—it is a force to be absorbed, pulling the soul into the heart of the spiral, where all things are lost to the endless flow of the zoetic undulation.