The corruption starts at the mouth, the tongue, the wanting. The first poem in the world is "I want to eat." - Erica Jong, "Where it Begins"
Accepting that magic stone had cost her more than she could ever account for. She had not known it was a commission to fight as officer in a war the spanned the universe. She had not known it would make her a thing of the primordial chaos of the universe, one who commanded elements, memories, and love as weapons against their antithesis. She had been beautiful in her transformed state, was still beautiful as she streaked across a nearly barren sky, but she no longer cared for beauty. Below her the world lied in ruin. Her compatriots, sapphire, ruby, and topaz lights, were extinguished. The patron who had given them their powers lay dead. Only she was left. And only she could hope to defeat the foes arrayed before her.
The great citadel of the enemy floated upon dark storm clouds that whipped up murderous winds and wild lightning to score the ground beneath its path. She was greeted at its gates by the arrayed host of the foe. They grinned with sadistic delight at the sight of the final obstacle, a mere formality, that stood between them and total victory. The Queen was there, dark and magnificent, appraising all things without word. Her herald, a thing like a jester, spoke for her. Emerald did not hear it's words. She was focused. Clutching her magic stone to her breast, praying. Her prayer was not the sort that man sends to god. It was not a thing a hope, of anger, of defiance, or even desperation. It was a call to memory. A cry out to the memory of all things that moved upon the earth. The corruption begins with the mouth. The tongue. The wanting. This prayer had been spoken long ago, in the depths of the oceans, in the darkest reaches of the earth. When the first animals had struggled into being and looked out upon the world they had prayed. Prayed as all their descendents have prayed. As all men pray, though men think themselves above it. Emerald had grasped at this prayer, for it was the only one left to give. The first poem in the world. I want to eat.
What predator casts a shadow in all directions? What beast hungers without ceasing? What is the fate of all things that live? The demons cackling upon their castle ramparts did not see the shadow cast over them. They did not feel the fear that every animal knows from birth. They did not know that they were dying. Only Emerald saw it. The great mouth that opened from nowhere. The glistening marble of monolithic teeth. The hot breath of a hungering animal. I want to eat.
A new thunder rolled over silent hills as those teeth came together. As the mouth closed over Emerald and her foes. Total darkness. The heat of a mouth. A scream, too late. Then nothing. The predator withdrew to its lair deep in the memories of the fish and crustaceans, a prayer answered, it's poem spoken, it's hunger sated. For now.
Nothing remaining upon the earth could conceive of its salvation. But it had been saved.
