"I pray every day for my saviour to bring the End that will engulf me.
Oh, how I wish I knew more of it — that insane concept that makes me smile uncontrollably.
For my end... is the beginning of another."
whispered the preacher, grinning with blood-slick teeth.
All the children were dead.
All but one.
Her heart still burned — ignited by pain, fear, and the mourning screams of the others.
Her hand drove clean through the preacher's throat.
Before she could pull back, the Watcher burst through the door, eyes wide and arms outstretched.
"I have been blessed! My End has arrived!"
She ran — he chased.
But the fear was now rage.
She tackled him, pinned him, and bit into his neck with animal fury.
He did not scream in pain.
"Praise be to the End!" he howled.
"All hail the End-Bringer!"
And she answered his worship with horror.
She tore his throat.
Then his limbs.
Then his clothes.
Then his silence.
When it was done, she sat alone, curled in the corner, inhaling the thick, rotting air.
Weeping.