![]() ![]() If they had to die to ensure that this was so, they would not hesitate. The fate, the visions the Prophet was unleashing among them, could not be allowed to come to Earth. Shared, and grew ever more resolute in the knowledge of what it was they must do. ![]() Throughout it all the Prophet slept, and screamed, while around him a select gathering of acolytes shared his visions and shuddered. They killed and would keep on killing until nothing remained that could be called a victim. The proponents of the interminable slaughter could never be sated. ![]() This they did with an efficiency and soulless resolution that knew no satisfaction. The shapes-the things that roved and raged and ravaged among them-were imbued with an implacable urge to kill. The inhabitants of the city tried to fight back, and the more they fought, the faster they died. A tsunami of blood ran down first one street, then another. At that moment, at that time, it was colder than ever.īodies were ripped apart, exploded, sundered, until dismembered skeletons began to pile up against the sides of buildings like white foam from a wave. But the cosmos was a cold, uncaring place, and did not care what would have been preferable. ![]() Dying of old age, or an inability to reproduce, or even of disease would have been tolerable. They were all dying, and there was nothing they could do.ĭying in their sleep would not have been so bad. ![]()
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