Title: Glory
Pairing/s: ot13
Summary: (cosmic!au) They are not kind. They are not merciful. Do not mistake their kindness for kindness.
A/N: another au where wjsn are a type v on the kardashev civilization scale and are not human. i know i’m very late for halloween but here’s your short annual cosmic!au with references from dct + smsy mvs + our very own hypernova because what is this without it? idk (a quick unrelated side note for those interested, callisto is part of a bigger story/world i’m working on so i decided to put it in a separate story which can be found here.)     ------ are you ready?
TW: slight body horror

A Compilation of Accounts from Several Extinct Planetary Civilizations

1. When the world ends, they will come too late. They are not angels.

2. They will not come to save you. They will come to watch and wait while your city burns and you suffocate from sulfur.

3. You will see them coming from far away. Through the cracks in their skin galaxies and nebulae stretch and swirl for eternities. Trillions of suns line up above where the flesh and bones meet, setting every inch of their skin ablaze. They are unholy behind their stardust-lined eyes.

4. There are thirteen of them. Do not bother to count. Do not look at them directly in the face, either. Many tried and burned their eyes.

5. When you see them approach, sink to your knees and kiss the dirt.

6. When they stand before you, keep your eyes on their feet and do not look up. You are not worthy. Look at their feet and do not look away; never look away. They will swallow you whole when you are not looking.

7. They will tell you stories. They will talk of the burning sky, of how fast they will run when the gates open and they’re finally let out. Their voices will sound like yours and their laughter will sound happy. They are trying to relate to you. Be honored.

8. Do not say anything. Listen carefully. Remember which one of them speaks of going out of the gate last. Repeat the name in your head a hundred times. Then a thousand. Repeat until your vocabulary breaks down and you know nothing else but a name.

9. Their stories will last for thirteen hours. Try to stay alive as long as you can while your world crumbles around you. Eat the dirt and let your knees bleed on the soil.

10. When they begin to leave, do not get up immediately.

11. One of them will remain standing in front of you and ask for a name. Say the name that you have cemented in your mind. Get it wrong and you will crumble into dust like the rest your civilization.

12. Get it right and you will be flung high up into the sky and will transcend into divinity; higher, and higher to become one with the stars and be a part of their domain.

13. Whatever happens remember this: They are not kind. They are not merciful. Do not mistake their kindness for kindness.

Note: Memorize all their known names before the end comes. Repeat at least twenty times in the morning and twenty more before you go to sleep so when they come there will be no room for mistakes.

-

They mimic the human routine for ten years.

When commanded, they wear the skin of mortals—bright-eyed, honey-tongued, porcelain-skinned. They walk among men; eat, sleep, talk as are told. But they must not wander on Earth for long. The flesh is weak and they are eternal. You cannot contain light with your bare hands.

Today, all thirteen of them are scattered across an empty classroom; sitting on chairs, standing behind tables, talking in smooth voices. Their eyes, either bloodshot red or the color of the void, dart from one corner to the other—restless as they read book after book, scourging all of written history.

They crowd Mei Qi as she pricks the bare skin at her shoulders with manicured nails. She confessed to feeling a missing weight on her back not too long ago. Her back bleeds red but nothing else comes out.

“Dig deeper,” Yeoreum suggests.

Hyunjung crosses the room, drifts fluidly, as if hovering on air. The long crack that runs across her cheek crawls down to her neck, a flap of skin barely hanging onto her face. More light spills onto the polished floor.

Juyeon flits by her side and runs a thumb through the torn skin like tape to seal light with light.

By the corner of the room, Cheng Xiao’s hands and fingers twitch uncontrollably. Beside her, Jiyeon vomits the rice cake she pretended to eat during lunch. The rest of them claw their way out of their own skin, drawing red rivers across pale arms in search of something they do not know yet.

Mei Qi lets out a strangled cry before a pair of fully-grown wings violently erupt from her back.

A pair of horror-filled eyes peek from the deserted hallway. Humanity has never strayed this far before until now.

“Do not be afraid,” Yeonjung tells the gawking Student by the doorway, smiling, and with arms open.

The Student passes out before anyone else gets a ch