Silence reigned on the golden sands, a heavy, somber quiet that was more profound than any noise.
The Shore, a place of perpetual vibrancy, had been muted by the shock of the attack and Khor's sacrifice. Yet, at the heart of this stillness, a whirlwind of power was beginning to form.
Noah stood before the bisected body of the Primordial Stone Ape, which now had a writhing, obsidian-gold lower half made up entirely of Ozymandias's tentacles.
Thousand of tentacles, each one a tendril of insatiable hunger, wrapped around Noah's form, not to harm him, but to serve him.
Their purpose was singular, their hunger absolute: to devour the curse placed upon their master by The First Leader, Gilgamesh.
Others watched from a distance, their faces a mixture of solemnity.
The memory of the terrifying white light, of Khor's sacrifice, was still too fresh, too raw, for them to fully comprehend what was happening.
