‘What will be left of us?’ Castigon asked. He spoke as quietly as the growl of the engine and the hammering of the earthquakes allowed. ‘Enough,’ Corbulo said. ‘There will be enough.’ He would not believe otherwise. He could not afford to do so. But the shadows of visions that haunted his rest drew closer, gathering definition. He gazed upon a full company consumed by madness, and the shadow of the future took form.
