7 Series | The Origin of Gluttony

Two winning stories become one dark legend

What you’re about to read came from the May Writing Challenge. There were rules. Criteria. Structure. You can read all about those [HERE].

And I broke them all. Beautifully, if I may add. No one even died!

The authors behind these pieces have officially become gods—to the Void, at least. And to me. Their work lives on inside the Void, immortalized as the origin story of Gluttony from 7 Series.

So next time you read a new chapter and see Gluttony, you can proudly say “I know them.”

Welcome to The Origin of Gluttony. I hope you’re hungry.

Photo by Jaredd Craig on Unsplash

Psst. Hey, you. Come here.

I know Epoch of Erasure has been taking a little longer than any of us would like—so I brought you something.

Remember The Book? The one you keep almost getting to read? Well, I went back to End of the World Influencer—you know, that scene where Elliot actually had the Book and was explaining to Adam that he’s Pride? The one I fast-forwarded through before he could reveal the rest of the sins. No spoilers. Obviously.

I brought you a clip. Just to hold you over.

---

What you read

“Humans know us as the Seven Deadly Sins,” he says. “But that’s not entirely accurate.”

Something in the air changes. He isn’t just talking. He’s unveiling.

“All of us,” he continues, “embody sin-based power. But we’re more than that—we’re architects. Forces. Fractured pieces of something ancient. You, Adam, are what they once called Pride.”

The word lands like a bell tolling through my chest.

“You inspire allegiance. Worship. Ego. People fall in line without realizing it—because when you believe something, the world bends to meet it.”

A pause.

“Or it did. Until Envy.”

Continued…

“So there are more?!” Three space witches is already four more than I think should be allowed.

“Seven, to be exact. Excellent job at keeping up.” He wasn’t smug, exactly, but he did smirk. “Though Gluttony is usually… occupied. As you know, Gluttony is just endless hunger—it manifests in many ways. While the rest of us have one central domain, their power bleeds into everything. There’s hunger in pain. In dominance. In love. In control. In memory. In meaning. They’ve spent Epochs reincarnating, consuming new forms of it. Each life? A new appetite.”

He looked at me a second too long—I thought I was about to get to use my “no thank you, you’re great but I, unfortunately, wasn’t given options when whatever-the-fuck was assigning partnering preferences” line.

But no.

His voice slithered into my brain and started painting images. “At one point,” Elliot murmured, “they were a hunter.”

Suddenly, I was standing in a forest—seeing the memory from Gluttony’s perspective.

Photo by Ryan Hutton on Unsplash

Beneath gathering clouds, dainty white flowers became a constellation, a galaxy reflecting the hidden skies. Thickening gunmetal and onyx enveloped twilight, chasing, braiding overhead. Barely visible above towering branches and swaying leaves.

Casting my eyes ahead, I considered the path vanishing into the deep; moss soft below my bare feet. There was static in the air; a delicate caress over my limbs. A promise whispered. Echoed in the steady breath of the forest, the gentle lullaby of birdsong, the cry of an owl.

A low growl of thunder rolled through the pearlescent luminosity of the sky. Encroaching night enhanced the shadows; gnarled boughs cloaking me the further I journeyed along the worn trail. Entwined trees drowned remnants of moonlight; sparse spears creating sparks across the maws of blooms retiring for slumber.

Fragrance drifting, wraiths on the balmy current.

The pressure of discovery clung to me, carving through my mind and conjuring a multitude of possible escapes, of possible entrapment. We were forever linked, in this life and the next, but that did not prevent the chill from wrapping my bones, from hinting at the peril of error.

It would only take one mistake.

I tipped my face to the first drops of rain. Lips parting and eyes reverent. I inhaled the divinity caressing my skin. The cascade increasing, a melody discordant and broken by the branches, by the leaves, by the canopy shrouding me.

A blanket suffocating but familiar.

Below the blurring silhouette, I spun; greedy eyes absorbing my surroundings for any evidence of him. I could sense he was there.

Hidden.

Waiting.

The Hunt

Elliot’s voice tore me from one memory to another. “And once… they were mortal. Just like you. Obsessed with the hunt, in any form.”

Photo by Alex Gomez on Unsplash

Outside, the wind stirred the pines in a way that was too uniform to be natural, like something was waiting.

At night, the forest was a darker thing.

I tried to read, but my eyes kept drifting to the window. Out there, the trees swayed as if in tune with a current, their branches speaking a language not meant for me. Every creak of the tower felt too intentional. I kept checking the ladder trapdoor, expecting to see fingers curling around the edge.

Around midnight, the radio roared to life.

A blast of static ripped through the silence. I froze, book half-open in my lap. The power light on the console glowed a dim red. No stations were tuned in. I hadn’t touched it since arriving.

“...you hear me…”

A voice, buried in the static, half-swallowed by white noise. A woman’s voice. My heart kicked violently. I stood, leaning closer.

“Say… something …” The signal garbled, like drowning words. “...alone out there…”

My hand hovered over the tuner dial. The air inside the tower grew dense, like the walls leaned in. I barely breathed.

Static in the Pines

I almost got whiplash from how fast Elliot yanked me back into… wherever we are. He tilted his head. “We should pause. My powers are emotion-based, and frankly, you’re very squishy right now.”

“Hey!”

---

Continued in End of the World Influencer Pt 6, linked below.

End of the World Influencer [PT 6]: A Dark Fantasy Series

Thank you so much to everyone who participated—this was such a fun first round. My first-place pick—the story going into the Ledger—is

Ariadne Pautina

. Second place goes to

The Axe Forgets - Short Horror

. Both will receive a featured spot on my publication and, of course, a thank-you letter from Jeffrey (good luck, friends).

Before we go, I want to clear something up. I’ve seen a lot of discourse about the criteria. Criteria is what you make of it.

I will not always choose the cleanest prose. I will almost never choose the entries that make it easy on me. I will bend and twist the criteria as much as I want. If it keeps things interesting, it’s fair game. And you should feel free to do the same.

Think of the prompts less like strict rules, and more like someone trying to guide you out of a dream. If I say “remember the forest?”—that could be a photo from a trip. A single line. A haunting. A metaphor. A tattoo.

Let the criteria spark something. Never let it restrict you.

Until the next story,

—The Narrator

To vote on June’s Writing Challenge, click [HERE].

Read Jeffrey’s latest message to mortals!

Emergency Message from Jeffrey

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