[Excerpt from a work of fiction, final chapters]
I do not fear the Void, nor am I concerned with the spiritual sanctity of the weak. For I am now His herald, His chosen, having seen His sublime vault, where eternally He feeds upon the substance of the Void.
Alone in Orchado's ship, the floor painted red with life, I draw designs with my fingers and gaze through the portals at the land rising below. There I will build the first monument to His glory, a rotting wound in the flesh of nature.
Patiently, I'll build, awaiting Your arrival, oh great scion of the Void!