The Destruction of Beautiful Things

"They give our Master a crown of thorns, why do we hope for a crown of roses?" - Martin Luther


11. Eidolon

Something dark was looming beneath the city.

It was in pain. There were many voices it could hear, but only some still remembered its name.


It whispered back to the voices that remembered.

Pray to me.

It shuddered in pain again. It needed more people to believe. It needed people to worship.

Bring me more, bring me more, the thing below the city begged.

And then an answering voice whispered back:

As you command.


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