Achilles moved through weavings of existence.
THE Watcher's authority carried him across distances that should have required lots of time to traverse, spatial fabric parting before him like water around a diving blade. Colors he could not name streaked past his consciousness. Sensations he could not describe pressed against his existence. The journey lasted moments and eternities simultaneously.
Then he appeared within The Existential Lattice.
In the domain Lamashtu was in.
The scene before him was horror given form.
Bodies of Absolutes surrounded the ritual circle in positions of collapsed worship. They were drained of all their power and blood, their obsidian garments hanging loose on frames that had been reduced to husks. Their chests gaped open where they had torn out their own Hearts of Civilization, wounds that would never heal because there was nothing left to heal.
Each of their eyes held despair and shock and pain.
