{{{{{{{{{{{{OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
The cry ripped through the Dreaming like a chorus of collapsing worlds.
Atlas's heartbeat tripped, then sprinted. No rhythm. Just panic.
That sound wasn't just heard—it entered him. Like an earthquake threading through bone marrow. His blood felt thick. His ribs pulsed, his breath sharp and shallow.
He turned.
The creature was still far—so far that perspective struggled to hold—but it was moving. No, ascending. Its form pushing through layers of this reality like an animal clawing up through burial soil. Closer. Closer still.
Each second it grew.
A mass of dark flesh and endless tentacles swirled beneath its impossible bulk, a grotesque ballet of limbs churning the sea of memory like it were alive. Seals and sigils spun loose from its chains, flying outward, burning away like fireflies hitting open flame.
Atlas didn't move.
He couldn't.
