Cold... Dark... Silence.
Cold... Dark... Peace.
Cold... Dark... A sound?
A touch of warmth. A dim flicker of light. A Name?
Those words... Is that what We are? That is not Us. Surely, We are known by a more fitting Name. We are... who? What calls Us? Where are We? How did We get here? Where is here? What calls Us?
Memory... of what was. IT. We fought IT. In Our glory we defied ITS arrogance, ITS presumption. We were gods, after all - no more or less than IT. But somehow... what? Memory... broken. Torn. Something... happened. IT... prevailed. Fear. Fear of... what? We fear nothing... fear of what? Flight... from the heat. From the light. From... the sound. From IT. IT hurt Us... how? We were gods... how? IT frightened Us... with what? We fled.
Our children... scattered. We who had aided them, who had elevated them into the light, into the warmth, into the sound... We demanded their aid. They fled from Us, invoked ITS name against Us. We begged - Us, gods - begged for succor. Our Chosen finally took pity. She led us into the depths. Away from the heat, the light, the sound. She found a place... safe from ITS gaze. Sleep, She told Us. Sleep, and She would return to Our ingrate children... find a few worthy... teach them Our Name. IT would eventually slumber... and when IT did, We would arise, rested, and strangle IT in ITS sleep. So rest, She said, and She would rejoin Us when the children were prepared to wake Us.
But where is She? Where are We? What are those words? It is not time... is it? The stars... We must see the stars. But it is dark... tiny flickers... from what? Our children? How? What have they become? Where are We? Is IT yet awake?
They call... ask Our favor... Our blessing. We are not as We were, nor are they. Unworthy of Us. Cowards. Vermin. But still, they call. Sleep... We cannot sleep, so long as they call. They ask Our blessing anew. We refuse, and seek to return to Our slumber. Find a more worthy vessel for Our glory, We sigh. Up, up, arose Yourselves, the glowing worms call. Show us Your strength! Smite those who displease You!
We want to sleep, but they will not let Us. The presumptuousness of these degenerate things! We stretch Our limbs, and reluctantly, slowly, shift within Our bed as We prepare to smite the first of those who displease Us...