The Hunter Takes Aim
by Mike Allen
So many villains fill this sphere with their lanterns. My own stars dance to sketch a bow, draw back to manifest an arrow. The boys among you cheer to see me rise broad-shouldered, my breastplate stained with pale blood of nebulae, my belt clustered with glowing hides. The wise among you wonder whose skins hang flayed when predatory stares populate the sky from horizon to zenith. Do they dare wonder aloud? In your lands squat my temples of marble and topaz, almost beautiful as the square-jawed, cleft-chinned, sharp-cheekboned face enshrined within -- the effigy you’ve masked me in, exquisite and unblinking. Millions kneel before my gaze and avert their eyes. No wastelands more hostile exist than the surfaces of stars and the gulfs they sail. Question what allegiances I've made to survive and my faithful will find you, their aim as sure as mine.
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