Then you will come to me. We will be one, flesh and bone. You just need to give in to me, he lured. Enticed. Called. Sang. Give in to me. Give in. His whispers sounded like a beautifully haunting song of mourning then, a beckoning that filled my mind with images. Blood-soaked ground and broken bones. Crimson skies and lakes of fire. The masses on their knees in worship. What I saw was terrible. What I saw felt… Inevitable.
