I fed the dice my blood

I fed the dice my blood. It seemed like a small ask for power unimaginable. How could such beautiful objects ever be unkind? But once I did, everything became twisted, distorted. Each one of my desires was now a cancerous version of itself. With one last push, I rolled the dice a final time hoping to undo the damage I had done. I rolled a one.

The dice, ever thirsty, await their next meal.