You see, no faith can truly die until the last of the faithful are gone: and sometimes the faithful are stubbornly, cruelly persistent. Even when their fallen gods plead to be forgotten, yearning for the silence of death and the peace of dissolution, there’s always a zealot who just won’t quit, or a temple for tourists to gawk at, or an inscription on a stone, or a statue in the sand – anything to make Men dream— Or, of course, a story.
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