They gathered in droves. This was a new thing that had appeared at this ancient citadel of the lord. This ancient place of piety and sanctuary. A giant wrapped statue of what seemed to be liquid silver, suddenly there where nothing had been before.
They gathered for hours, and stared. They whispered and talked and gazed in awe. Nobody knew where it came from. Nobody dared to touch it. Was it some kind of promotion? Was it some sort of announcement of a new Parisian artist?
After what seemed an eternity, the crowd suddenly gasped as the wrappings began to move of their own accord. They shimmered as they began to fall from the figure and wrap at its feet. In a sudden movement, the silvered wrappings fell away, to reveal an otherwordly figure. Human-like, but not human. No. Not even someone painted could move like this one. Like quicksilver over open flame.
The figure's head, if you could call it that, seemed to look around and gaze at the crowd. Then, slowly, it opened its arms wide, as if in an embrace.
Then, without warning, it... shattered. Liquid silver flew in every direction, and where it touched, devastation reigned. The crowd was cut down in seconds, and every drop that touched a solid surface began to grow. To transform. To become another of these figures.
The earth never stood a chance. |
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