The God of Unknowable stands proudly in the Great Void, and hungers for those existing. The Fifth Coming is imminent, and those blind and weak have worshiped the edges of his existence. But he dares not venture into the realm of the Lord of Non-Existent, with whom he shares the same void. The Lord of Non-Existent rests in her black, silent corner, her seven horns that are not there call for Negation. The God of Unknowable fears the likes of her, and seeks their destruction. The former has an unspeakable name, the latter with no name existing.

The dark clouds gathered, bolts of lightning twisting down, and the ocean roared in response. Rain drops rushed down, scratching the deck and people on it. But the crowd didn't seek shelter, and the cruise ship sailed steadily forward.
On the horizon, a dark island could be spotted afar. An island made of dark, bare rocks, with seven tall mountains, rose high above. A slumbering beast with its black bones exposed, protruding from its enormous body. Amidst the great thunders and the turbulent sea, the mountains were silent. And if they were to grow eerie eyes, they would look judgingly at those sailing towards them.
A woman stood alone at the deck, facing the crowd. Her blonde hair mismatched by the long, coal-black robe. The scars on her face were long and ugly, and told of her torment. She held up a book, one with a shiny green star on it. Then she laughed and tossed the book into the sea. It was swallowed by the waves in an instant. The crowd gasped, and the rain poured, streaming down her face like tears.
“Sister!” a man shouted, “This is madness!”
More voices joined the man, reciting the fifth glory, chanting the virtues of smoke and calling for the stars to come forth. But the dark clouds were thick, and no light was shed. The crowd was disturbed, but their voices drowned out by the rain and the thunders.
They accused her of harming the flow of energy. They accused her of hatred and disbelief. They accused her of existence.
But she smiled, hearing the faint voice of her persecutor coming from the bowels of the ship. Even during a storm, the voice seemed crystal clear: “May their names and memories be obliterated! For they have called upon the false lord!” She could almost make out hands scratching on the cell door, desperate but futile.
“Five,” she said, and the crowd quieted down, their attentions pointing at her once again, like sharp thorns of doubt and poison. “Five is indeed a number of grandness, but it is not the number of our Lord.”
The crowd was disturbed once again, but they were interrupted by a giant thunderbolt, striking inches away from the deck. The ship shook, the crowd panicked, but the woman didn't move.
“It is two numbers short from true greatness, as Seven excludes them all!” She laughed. “The Colorless Green is not the true color, for now we shall praise the Horned Black!”
“Nonsense!” one of them shouted in protest, and began to cite the verses from their Book of the Past Stars. “The first one was Saint Protor, who pointed upwards and reached the stars; the second one was the One that Speaks Not, but showed us the Signal and taught us cosmos; the third was Brother Terres, who breathed out the Smoke, granting us the shapes of souls; the fourth was Sister Susan, who held the true color in her hand, one only eyes cannot see; and the Fifth was the Great Horace, who stood by the bottomless pit and introduced the face of God.”
As he cited the holy text, it was as if the rain was slowed down, and the lighting had ceased. The sea roared, not of horrifying anger, but in a way that harbors strange, alien things deep beneath. The island now seemed smaller, shrouded by mists, dark and distant. But the woman, standing alone, laughed again at the crowd.
“But the sixth one has abandoned his name, and holds the Tomb that curses and denies, its sharp teeth grind through masks and lies; and the Seventh one has her name lost in Lord's realm, and hands over the dark emblem that negates.” With her laughter, the mist was suddenly clear, and the things beneath the great waters seemed to have been torn to pieces brutally. And the increasing rain beats and the cracks of lighting are almost like their dying screams.
“Heretic!” a woman shouted, “You will—” Several were about to join her, but she stopped mid-sentence, and began to scream. The crowd was silent again, this time fearful.
She ignored the struggling women, and proceeded. “I pay no mind to you, for you are but ignorant beasts. I know that six others are dancing with me, that the dead stars are dead, that the sea shall devour, that the smoke smells of black coal, that the color is darkness, cold and silence. It is because the truth was not revealed, but I am now revealed to the Lord that is not.”
The crowd shifted, but didn't dare to move away as they watched the one struggling on the ground become motionless and silent.
“You have brought me here, towards the hole at the bottom of the sea, for I will not adhere to your false god of five.” She smiled. “But here also stands the Seven Mountains of Thorns, the New Abode.”
As she said this, bolts of lighting struck, one after another. The darkness momentarily faded, as flashes of light moved towards the island. The island was still far on the horizon, but the jagged mountains seemed closer, and had grown pitch black horns.
The people on the deck held each other tightly in fear. Their prayers to their God of Fifth escaped their minds. Six others come forth from the crowd, three men, three women. One of them carried an obsidian amulet, in the shape of a seven pointed star.
“I have searched for the item of my Lord, the symbol of destiny, from the forgotten corners of the Library to the dead silent center of the Earth,” she said as she was handed the item.
The crowd screamed, as the dark clouds rained down ever so fiercely; as the seven dark mountains drew near in an instant; as the sea shattered in pain, revealing a enormous hole underneath the ship.
“This is my trail, and this is the day that we welcome our Lord!” She laughed, and put the seven-pointed star around her neck. “This is— the narrative of the existence.”

“Um, curious,” one agent commented as he examined a small black box.
“Yeah?” The other one turned his head. “What is it?”
“Some jewelry box,” the agent answered. “Judging by the shape inside, this thing used to hold a seven-pointed star.”
“Really? Aren't these guy obsessed with five or something?”
“Yeah, that's the strange part. And there's a note here.” He began to read. “Why is five afraid of seven?”
“Isn't the joke ‘Why is six afraid of seven?'”
“Yeah, because seven ate nine. But who knows, madman logic I suppose.”
The two agents shrugged it off, and proceeded to sort through the items on the large cruise ship. The sea around them was calm, and the water was clear.
Because Seven cannot exist. Because Seven negates.