Shower me in disgrace. Beg me for forgiveness. It is coming.
Prophecies of long ago come to light and fade to shadow. The words of a deranged prisoner, carried across the stars and galaxies until he found it: the goblin, the trickster, the wizard, the Lonely Angel, the Oncoming Storm, that most feared, loved, revered.
It reaches out and wraps its words around him. He half-knows. He runs as far and as fast as he can. The whole of time and space before him. But that is not far enough.
Shower me in disgrace.
So much blood on those old-new hands. So much grief and pain and hatred locked deep within his hearts.
It cannot be hidden forever. The loss, the struggle, it will all surface once more. It will tear him apart. It will split his soul down the middle. It will rip him in two. It will change him forever.
Beg me for forgiveness.
Karmic memories of things gone by may not be enough. Can the life of one lesser-being redeem the loss of a million higher-beings?
He killed so many. How can he bear to smile? To face each new day?
Soon no more days will come. There will only be silence.
It is coming.
The prophecies of long ago came true. The Pandorica was opened. The Lonely Angel was freed. And so Silence will fall.
We shall do all we can to prevent it. We cannot allow ourselves to fall.
We have killed many Time Lords.
But I have killed all of them.
You can come at me fast and strong but I will not be beaten.
I am not Time Lord Victorious.
But I will still win.