And All Things Will End
You are lying prostrate with your arms outstretched. You quickly recover your bearings and work your way to your feet. Veins have wormed through your brain, and are constricting it. Neurons spill out onto the floor. Your skull is bulbous. With what remains of your legs you drag yourself forward. You feel this city through all senses, and know the way intuitively.
You turn a sharp corner in between two venerable decomposing towers, and walk onto a large rocky plateau. There, nestled between sunken ramparts, and remnants of a opulent mansion, lies the source of all of this,.
It lies in the center of the plateau, cradled by the ribcage of a massive skeletal beast. The skeleton still has flesh stubbornly hanging from the obsidian colored bones.
It is coated in eyes around its pink untainted flesh. Dozens of limbs and tendrils unveil themselves and flail indiscriminately at the slightest provocation. There are no recognizable legs, but some of the stalks have sprouted smaller hands. There is a face, but it is stretched across a large surface and is not symetrical. Some of the eyes are closed, and the ones that are open appear to be pores. The entire creature seems to be quivering slightly. It takes slow, stuttering breaths. It seems to be sleeping. It has been sleeping for many eons. It is a fetus of another race of beings.
Gazing upon the majesty of the Child causes your mind to engage in guerilla warfare with your remaining senses. This should not be, and yet it is. Fundamentally impossible, but possibly lying before you.
Your new eyes can pierce multiple dimensions, and you see the ley lines connecting the Child with the etherial plane. You see the yellow miasma surrounding it, and the black thoughts it has leaking through the skull and floating upwards. the stars are above you, looking down with a baleful glow. The universe stretches out around you. There is nothing but the life that fights against the shadows and awaits the new dawn on the earth.
You resist the urge to fall to your knees in obeisance and force yourself to move closer to the Child. With every step your mind cries out. Blood flows from your ears. Yet you push on.
It hurts beyond reason.
You continue to move. The fetus sleeps on, ignorant of your presence or what it has done.
Your hand falls to your side and reassures you that your sword is still with you.
You turn a sharp corner in between two venerable decomposing towers, and walk onto a large rocky plateau. There, nestled between sunken ramparts, and remnants of a opulent mansion, lies the source of all of this,.
It lies in the center of the plateau, cradled by the ribcage of a massive skeletal beast. The skeleton still has flesh stubbornly hanging from the obsidian colored bones.
It is coated in eyes around its pink untainted flesh. Dozens of limbs and tendrils unveil themselves and flail indiscriminately at the slightest provocation. There are no recognizable legs, but some of the stalks have sprouted smaller hands. There is a face, but it is stretched across a large surface and is not symetrical. Some of the eyes are closed, and the ones that are open appear to be pores. The entire creature seems to be quivering slightly. It takes slow, stuttering breaths. It seems to be sleeping. It has been sleeping for many eons. It is a fetus of another race of beings.
Gazing upon the majesty of the Child causes your mind to engage in guerilla warfare with your remaining senses. This should not be, and yet it is. Fundamentally impossible, but possibly lying before you.
Your new eyes can pierce multiple dimensions, and you see the ley lines connecting the Child with the etherial plane. You see the yellow miasma surrounding it, and the black thoughts it has leaking through the skull and floating upwards. the stars are above you, looking down with a baleful glow. The universe stretches out around you. There is nothing but the life that fights against the shadows and awaits the new dawn on the earth.
You resist the urge to fall to your knees in obeisance and force yourself to move closer to the Child. With every step your mind cries out. Blood flows from your ears. Yet you push on.
It hurts beyond reason.
You continue to move. The fetus sleeps on, ignorant of your presence or what it has done.
Your hand falls to your side and reassures you that your sword is still with you.