"Imoxorre."
The air spit fire. The entire world was being consumed by it... It ran off of the sides of the buildings like water off of panes of glass. Heat... Being consumed by the heat, not baked, but melted... What was going on?
"My apocalyptica, my child. I was created for greatness, as a savior to this world... Look about you now. Remember this. Remember my failure."
The ground was splitting, and molten rock blocked out the suns.
The suns.
Too close, the suns were too close... They were destroying the very world that they had incubated so carefully for all of those millennia. Why... was god so unkind?
"Remember the fires, Imoxorre. Commit their images to memory, for if you do, you will always be able to see this world. True sight will benefit you more than the deception of the place you are going to now..."
Focus drifted... Though the images faded and jolted with the rhythm of the shaking planet, the child tried.
"You were born for greatness. It's embedded within you - you shall suffer and you shall bleed, but we all shall be better for it. You have success in your veins, Imoxorre. Protect our memory!"
Everything was abruptly muffled. The scent of scalded flesh, of destruction, was gone as the hatch of a tiny ship was shut. The child stayed still, her wide orange eyes fixed to the place where she had been born.
"For greatness," she whispered as she was sucked through the vast expanses of space and time to... the past.
The air spit fire. The entire world was being consumed by it... It ran off of the sides of the buildings like water off of panes of glass. Heat... Being consumed by the heat, not baked, but melted... What was going on?
"My apocalyptica, my child. I was created for greatness, as a savior to this world... Look about you now. Remember this. Remember my failure."
The ground was splitting, and molten rock blocked out the suns.
The suns.
Too close, the suns were too close... They were destroying the very world that they had incubated so carefully for all of those millennia. Why... was god so unkind?
"Remember the fires, Imoxorre. Commit their images to memory, for if you do, you will always be able to see this world. True sight will benefit you more than the deception of the place you are going to now..."
Focus drifted... Though the images faded and jolted with the rhythm of the shaking planet, the child tried.
"You were born for greatness. It's embedded within you - you shall suffer and you shall bleed, but we all shall be better for it. You have success in your veins, Imoxorre. Protect our memory!"
Everything was abruptly muffled. The scent of scalded flesh, of destruction, was gone as the hatch of a tiny ship was shut. The child stayed still, her wide orange eyes fixed to the place where she had been born.
"For greatness," she whispered as she was sucked through the vast expanses of space and time to... the past.
