“Something churns beneath those dark tides.”
The soldier sleeps.
“Worse than the war?”
It is not his time to wake.
“Much worse. Something is coming that will rival the war in its destruction.”
The timer is running low, though.
“How do you know?”
Soon it will run out.
“Can’t you feel it? You are young, yet. When you are older you will feel the Desolate more.”
Soon he will awaken.
“I feel something, but it’s like a mother’s love.”
My soldier will awaken.
“A mother’s love is dangerous. You sense the pure and think it good. There is more to the Desolate than you can yet sense.”
My child is coming.
“What more is there to sense? How can love be evil?”
My little Death.
“Every soldier had a loving mother, and look where that got us.”
The Grim Reaper grows beneath the waves.
“And now there is a destructive love churning in those dark tides.”
Azrael sleeps no more.