Chapter 7
"Alright, here's the next one," I said as spread my feet wide, my toes gripping as well as they could on the cool, smooth concrete. I shuffled a little bit to widen my stance and in the same instant held out my arms, extending the thumb, pointer and middle fingers of one hand in an imitation of a pistol. My other hand cupped the 'pistol' in its palm and I turned my neck slightly as if aiming down the sights. "Freeze!" I shouted abruptly at no one.
Gnar, standing a few feet away from me, hopped a foot in the air, landed in a square stance, and held out both hands pointed towards me. His fingers looked less like pistols and more like jazz hands, but with nails like his it was still adorably intimidating. "Ree!" he cried shrilly, altogether too enthusiastic about the imitation. He stood like that for a moment, but apparently the idea of not moving for any length of time didn't sit well with him because a few moments later he bounced up into the air again, this time landing on his head. His tail wiggled in the air as he wagged his butt back and forth tauntingly, chanting the phrase. "Ree! Ree! Ree!"
I felt a chuckle escape my lips as I lowered my hands, leaning backward until I found the bike parked just behind me in the middle of my workshop. "Needs some work," I said blandly, but I couldn't hide the entertainment from my voice. Gnar had stayed in the hospital room with Cait and I for the two weeks it had taken me to recover, and while I had been unable to teach him how to pick handcuffs in that time, it was great fun for everyone (excluding Miss-Reads-A-Lot who didn't seem nearly as enamored to spend time around the hyper little yordle).
I wouldn't have minded spending a teensy bit more time there (especially given the quality of the food), but Piltover's reputation for techmaturgic genius happened to extend to its medical systems too, and the combination of top-of-the-line (and likely experimental) technology and powerful healing magic made healing every cut, broken bone, and torn muscle take about half the time it normally would. Granted, I still wasn't exactly in fighting shape and getting around was noticeably more difficult than normal, but the fact that I was up at all was a testament to the skill of the people working there. And they did it all without stitching anything onto me, performing any "zombification" experiments or trying to replace my circulatory system with one that ran on radioactive sludge. Take that, Zaun.
"You ready for the next one?" I asked as I pushed myself off of the bike, wincing a bit as the load went back into my legs. Gnar grinned and chattered something unintelligible, which I guessed was a sign of confirmation. I had tried to learn his language through observation over the past week or so. While I had little to show for it, I had the feeling that if I listened to it enough I'd either have a breakthrough or forget to speak my own language. I raised my hands in the same 'fake-gun' pose, bringing to mind a variety of other phrases I could teach the little yordle when the world around me… thickened.
Maybe that's a weird way to describe it. I felt a sudden pressure push in on me, as if the very air had doubled in mass. It centered at my head, and I had the distinct feeling that migraines would come running if it didn't go away promptly. I sighed, lowering my hands, and waited for the message to come. It didn't take long. Words came into my head as if I had thought them up myself, but the mental voice echoed with a booming basso that drowned out any other idle specks of thought that might have been floating around in there. The communication magic was strong, and while it didn't invade my free will, the way it just showed up without warning made the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.
Prepare yourself, Champion Vi, the message boomed. The time of the assembly approaches. Return the call when you are ready, and you will be brought to the Institute of War to join the others.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair as the thoughts faded away, replaced by the usual radio static that went on up there. The feeling of pressure vanished, but I could still feel the faint presence of magic in the air, like the warmth emanating through the window on a sunny day. They were watching and waiting for me, and as much as I enjoyed taking my sweet time, you don't just keep the Institute and its summoners waiting. They had the power to transport a champion across the continent to the Institute, and you didn't want them exercising that power when you weren't ready. Made me glad I'd already gone to the facilities before the call came through.
"Get ready to go, little buddy," I said in passing to Gnar as I walked over to the door of the workshop and picked up my shoes, a pair of worn-down boots that weren't used in the field but still showed years of wear and tear. The hiking insole was a welcome cushion for my stiff feet, and with a smile of relief I looked back at Gnar who had remained motionless (aside from his usual restless bobbing). "Oh, right, nothing to get ready," I commented.
I walked back over to Gnar and scooped him up, holding him in my arms like an oversized dog. Gnar wiggled incessantly but calmed down as he felt the pressure return and a moment later I felt it as well, a tangible force that steadily grew until I could feel the presence of the summoners return to my mind. If they had spoken, it would be in the same blaring thought as the message before, but this time they remained silent. I stiffened a bit, puffing air out of my nose as I readied my will. While I normally had about as much magical talent as it took to create hextech gauntlets, I knew enough to influence someone else's spell. I couldn't deflect fireballs with my bare hands, but I knew how to impress my will upon a spell, which was all it took.
With a thought I sent my reply to the summons and almost instantly the pressure redoubled, the air feeling as thick as water around me. Yellow sparks danced around me, settling on the floor in rings of light, marked with magical sigils that blazed with a carefully controlled fire of magical energy. Gnar shook with surprise and fear in my hands, but I kept a close hold on him to make sure he got pulled along with me. As the lights settled around me I felt a pulling sensation, almost like the gravity keeping my feet on the ground, beginning to tug at me from a spot barely above the crown of my skull, just under the skin. My stomach churned uncomfortably and I was momentarily glad that I had experienced this before or I might have lost my lunch. My conscious mind was aware of the world blurring around me as yellow light obscured the workshop, filling the room with a glow that made it hard to discern details. In a sudden jolt of movement I felt as if my body was pulled up into my skull and back out faster than the speed of thought, and for a second the sensation of gravity redoubled around me, causing me to stumble.
I felt myself tip over as a pair of arms wrapped around my back, carrying my weight long enough to get my feet back under me. As the yellow lights faded away I heard Caitlyn's voice just behind me, mostly calm but with the slightest edge of concern. "Are you alright, Vi?" I couldn't see very well thanks to the lights, but I had a vague idea of where I was- a fairly bland, stone-walled room within the Institute of War that was used as a destination for summoning spells. Unless multiple people were summoned at once it was usually completely empty and devoid of decoration, to avoid any complications with the summoning spells. Didn't want to accidentally teleport a person into a bookcase, after all.
I steadied myself and put a hand to my head while the sensations died down slowly and I returned to the physical world. "Yeah, thanks," I said slowly, "It just hit me a little harder than I thought." As my eyes readjusted I saw Gnar, who had slipped free of my grasp, take a wobbling step and topple over onto his side, clearly disoriented by the teleportation spell that he'd just experienced. I couldn't fault the little yordle, just about everyone reacted the same way the first time. I turned my head back to Caitlyn, who still stood behind me with one arm rested on my shoulder, ready to apply support if needed. Her expression quickly changed from one of concern to one of annoyance, and I saw her eyes run up and down the length of my body, taking in my incredibly stylish choice of attire. "What?" I asked, as innocently as I could manage.
"I told you to dress appropriately," Caitlyn said, the sound of irritation impossible to hide in her voice.
I looked down at myself, fighting to contain my smile. I wore a pair of shorts that overqualified for their name, the denim fabric stopping just about where my thighs began. The boots went about halfway up my shins, and between the two there was nothing hiding my well-toned legs, which looked damn good despite still feeling stiff from recovery. I wore a black shirt small enough to show curves without restricting bloodflow (very important for looking good while remaining conscious) emblazoned with the phrase "BARON CAN SUCK MY SPIRIT STONES" in white letters. Both the shirt and shorts exposed plenty of skin on my arms and legs, which let my numerous tattoos see the light of day, which was probably the part that Caitlyn was most annoyed with, aside from literally everything else.
"This is appropriate," I commented, trying to sound like she had offended my quaint sensibilities, "Laundry day, Cupcake. It was either this or nothing." I let an overly flirty smile creep up on my face and I stepped a little bit closer. "Unless you'd rather I went with something else," I whispered, and Caitlyn immediately shoved at my shoulder to get me to step back. The barest hint of a blush crossed her face, replaced quickly and effectively with irritation.
"Now is not the time for fooling around," Caitlyn hissed, her brows knit so tightly together that I wondered if they'd stick that way. "The assembly is about to start, let's get going. We can discuss your idea of 'formal wear' later." She spun on her heels and I got a look at her fairly formal purple dress furnished with light stripes and brown belts before she headed through the door at the end of the room and out of sight. I looked back at Gnar with a smile and helped him up off the ground. He groaned with confusion but made it to his feet, and waddled slowly along with me out of the door into the Institute of War.
Words like "huge", "big" and "holy crap" fail to accurately convey the scale of the Institute, but still… holy crap. The place was built centuries ago to act as a neutral ground for various factions and nations, but it wasn't until the most powerful summoners in the world convened and chose the massive building as their home that it saw a surge of growth to accommodate all of the political traffic that passed through its halls on a daily basis. The summoning room opened into the main hall, which served as a lobby for comers and goers to pass through on their way to various conference halls and assembly rooms elsewhere in the Institute. Well, normally it did. Apparently our little assembly was a big enough deal to summon us straight into the main chamber of the Institute of War.
The assembly chamber looked as if it was carved out of a mountain. The stone floors, while beautifully marbled, seemed organic and as natural as the dirt underneath its foundation, and the stone pillars that held up the ceiling some hundreds of feet above us seemed as if they had grown out of the ground. The pillars themselves, each as wide around as ancient trees, bore paintings depicting events in Valoran's history, as well as various runes and sigils scrawled in flowing paint at mathematically precise intervals across the stone. More sigils decorated the walls, some spelling words of power and other seeming to represent magical entities or spiritual beings. Purple and blue banners hung from the walls, their flowing script seeming to glow a soft white light that hovered an inch or two away from the fabric itself.
I had been in this main assembly chamber once before, when Caitlyn had stood before the Institute to recommend me as a champion of the League. It had been about the scariest thing I'd ever experienced, and part of it had to do with the way the place felt. Power was a tangible substance here, so deeply saturated that you could feel it in the stone, identifiable as a soft thrumming sensation, a tension stretched tight like the skin of a drum. It was less of a magical anomaly and more a sign of the incredible power that those who walked these halls possessed, and given that the main assembly hall was only used when a conclave of the more powerful summoners in the Institute was called, it made sense that the place emanated its own magical resonance.
As I came in, I saw Caitlyn take a seat at a large and blocky wooden chair, one of many positioned behind one of two large stone tables. The one that she and Heimerdinger were seated at was of modest size, its carefully-carved surface perfectly smooth with the exception of the magical sigils carved into its corners and edges, which glowed a soft purple that was almost imperceptible if you weren't seated at it. The table at the opposite end of the room was very similar, if not a bit larger and raised a few feet on a platform. Three massive wood chairs sat at rooted spots at the table, the material made of very-much-alive oak and sycamore and pine, the scents of which were barely perceptible through the feeling of raw magic that hung in the air. Blue-green markings carved into the trees glowed with a soft humming sound that could easily be misconstrued as white noise if you hadn't heard it before, and various seasonal plumage bloomed from the sides and back of the trees, bright greens matching with the current summer season. I walked over with Gnar and took a seat next to Caitlyn, the one on the furthest-right end of the table. I was about to speak up when the High Summoners (that's capital H, capital S) appeared from a door at the far end of the assembly room and walked in unison towards the other table.
The High Summoners were three men, but given that they were the three most powerful entities in this world and likely this entire realm of existence, 'men' no longer seemed like an apt description. They wore thick robes of purple, blue and aquamarine respectively, the fabric thick and trimmed with a golden weave that glittered slightly even when light did not shine upon it. Heavy cowls covered their faces in shadow, and it was only through the way they hunched ever so slightly as they walked that I could guess their age. That having been said, the pure magical essence they possessed made it impossible to guess exactly how many years they had lived. It was known that magic could be used to extend one's lifespan, which left the age of a person wielding more magic than anyone in Valoran a permanent mystery.
They entered in silence, and each took a seat in one of the living tree chairs with an ancient patience that did not imply weakness or sluggishness, less like an aging man and more like a human glacier, deliberate and immovable. Caitlyn and the others stood from their seats as the High Summoners entered, and after a moment's hesitation I rose as well. I may have a rebellious streak a mile wide, but the streets didn't raise me to be an idiot. When all three High Summoners were seated, we all sat down. Gnar, who had plopped himself down on the floor next to my chair, got to his feet and grinned widely, showing his enlarged lower canines. "Gnar kabbo!" he shouted cheerfully.
The summoners did not respond. Silence hung in the air for a moment, and I could feel the very magic in the room course around them like orbiting stars. Eventually a voice rang out in the large assembly hall, originating from one of the summoners, although the acoustics of the hall made it impossible to tell which one.
"Which champion shall step forward and speak on behalf of this guest?" asked the voice. It was almost unnaturally deep, shaking with something I couldn't perceive- did magic change your vocal cords?- and since none of the summoners moved their heads when they spoke, I had no idea if the voice came from any one of them, all of them, or none of them. Caitlyn, her posture perfectly formal and proper, stood up from the table and stepped around me, walking to the center of the room.
"High Summoners," she said curtly, "We have chosen to discuss this matter as a group. As such, when it becomes relevant, members of our group shall step forward to make statements."
"Understood," the summoners spoke. "And am I led to believe the purpose of this assembly involves this… yordle?"
While the sentence was phrased as a question, there was no confusion in the voice. This was a mere formality, it was likely that the summoners had already understood the situation and come to a decision.
"Indeed," she confirmed, "We have asked for this assembly to discuss the yordle named Gnar." Caitlyn nodded and gestured to him. Gnar looked at Caitlyn with curious eyes, but did not move.
"Get up there," I hissed quietly to Gnar, nudging at him with my foot. Gnar looked up at me this time, blinked, then stood up, walked a few feet back behind the table, and sat back down, beginning to nibble on his boomerang. All eyes turned back to Caitlyn, who hadn't let Gnar's flippancy shake her.
"Gnar is a yordle," she continued, "But not of our time. Our best estimates suggest Gnar is a yordle from prehistoric times, at least before the Freljord was frozen in the wake of the Watchers. As such, he has difficulty understanding our language and customs."
The summoners were silent for awhile, and then the voice rang out again. It was slightly, almost imperceptibly higher, making me wonder if it was another one of them. "Champion Caitlyn," they said, "You come to this assembly asking that this Gnar be instated as a champion of the League of Legends?" they asked. So they knew beforehand why we were here. That meant their minds might have already been made up. Crap. "What qualifications does this yordle possess?"
"For that, High Summoners," Caitlyn said with a step backwards, "I defer to Champion Heimerdinger." As she stepped back the afroed yordle left his seat and came forward to the center of the room where Caitlyn had stood, his wiggling hair the only thing that didn't have an air of seriousness about it.
"High Summoners," Heimerdinger addressed the three, "We at the Yordle Academy have done extensive research on Gnar's condition, and have found what we have identified as a 'rage gene'." A small silver globe with a large red lens floated out of Heimerdinger's hair and hovered a few feet away from him, projecting an image in light in the middle of the room. It showed a profile view of Gnar, along with a detailed look at a series of gene samples. I recognized them as the ones he'd shown me at the mechanics shop. "As you can see from this diagram, while many of his core gene sequences differ mildly from the modern yordle genetic structure, one in particular stands out due to a very notable mutation. We believe this gene was recessive at the time, and eventually became obsolete due to the difficulty yordles with this rage gene had in controlling it." The diagram expanded, showing a small image of Gnar outlined within the larger silhouette of his enraged form. "When greatly angered, Gnar seems capable of startlingly sudden growth, drastically increasing his offensive and defensive capabilities. Champions Caitlyn and Vi were involved in a fight against Gnar's enraged form and it took the combined efforts of both of these League champions to subdue him."
"You say that Gnar cannot control these transformations?" the summoner asked slowly.
Heimerdinger nodded. "While more time to study his various genetic traits and inconsistencies would likely yield more solid results, our strongest theories state that he does not appear to have any more control of the form and its transformations than he has control over his emotions."
"Hey Cait," I whispered softly.
"What," she responded shortly, clearly not wanting to look like she was doing anything remotely naughty around the big bad summoners, "This had better be important, Vi."
"When do I say my piece?" I asked.
"Let us do the talking," Caitlyn responded. "We'll do our best, don't worry about it."
"But Cait, I-"
"Shhh," Caitlyn interrupted me. "Just trust us, Vi. Please."
I frowned, crossing my arms in front of my chest and furrowing my brow, but I stayed quiet. "…When combined with his mental age which appears to be fairly juvenile, it's unlikely that Gnar could be taught to easily control his rage gene," Heimerdinger concluded.
The summoners didn't speak, but I saw one of them turn in the direction of Gnar. From behind our table he began to float, lifted in the air as if by invisible hands. In his surprise Gnar dropped his boomerang, and I picked it up as the yordle was levitated through the air to hover in the center of the room, next to Heimerdinger. Gnar's eyes widened with confusion that slowly gave way to fear, and I saw him look to me, his arms helplessly reaching out for me to grab him. My knuckles tightened until I felt like I was going to get up and punch a god-wizard in the face, but I felt a soft, warm hand close around one of my knuckles and saw Caitlyn stand up next to me. "Take it easy," she said softly, then stepped up to take Heimerdinger's place next to Gnar.
"Champion Caitlyn," the voice of the summoners spoke, "Why do you believe that this yordle should be instated as a League champion?"
Caitlyn looked at the frightened yordle next to her and somehow managed to hide her emotions behind a mask of solid stone. I got the idea she felt the same way I did for the yordle, but she didn't let herself show it. "When we first detained him in Piltover, we believed him an animal, High Summoners," she said calmly. Next to her, Gnar whined with fright, but she paid him no mind. "Time spent with him has taught us that he is simply young and in a foreign world. We discussed many options to find an appropriate home for him, and decided that instating him as a champion would-"
Caitlyn was about to continue speaking, but Gnar's terrified squeaks interrupted her, growing deeper and gaining a threatening growl underlining their volume. My heart dropped into my stomach as I saw his eyes, still shaking with confused fear, begin to film over with a sickly red color, his fur darkening to match it. I didn't realize I had gotten up until I had already crossed half the distance between us, his boomerang in hand. "Vi!" shouted Caitlyn, but I paid her no mind. I could see Gnar's body twisting, bones thickening and muscle swelling as he began to transform, and if I could just get to him, if I could just calm him down…
When I reached him I tried to throw my arms around him, to comfort him as best I could, but I was repelled by pure force, pushed away from Gnar on all sides like I was magnetized. I strained against the magic as hard as I could, but my muscles screamed protests and I took a step back, reddening marks on my arms where the magic had pressed against them. I watched, stepping back further, as Gnar's fear transformed into rage, and as his rage transformed him. His fur slowly finished changing color, the color of dried blood, and underneath it his body rippled and swelled until he was the size of a small elephant. His tusks elongated, blood visible on the roots as they grew out of his gums to enormous size. His eyes, those eyes so stricken with fear, had not changed in size, and in contrast to his growing head they seemed tiny. The red faded, leaving behind a fiery, bestial yellow, and Gnar roared. The sound echoed in the enclosed hall, each wave pounding at my ears like a jackhammer, until suddenly… it stopped.
In the wake of the roar I had closed my eyes, and when I reopened them I saw that Gnar had not stopped roaring, but the sound had stopped emitting from his mouth. Silence hung in the air as everyone in the room watched the massive beast of rage thrash in futility a few feet above the ground, all of its incalculable strength and primal fury worthless in the cold magic of the High Summoners. Their voice rose again, the tone implacably calm, as if nothing at all had changed the course of the discussion. "Continue, Champion Caitlyn," they said.
"We…" Caitlyn began, her eyes still locked on Gnar's thrashing form, "We discussed at length the possibilities of imprisonment, of confinement." Standing across from her I saw the fear in her eyes, and I knew it all too well. "I-It did not yield a feasible solution, which is why we believe induction into the League is the best possible option for his safety and the safety of others."
"Were we to induct Gnar as a champion," the summoners spoke, "It would be for his prowess in combat. Given his unstable nature," they added, gesturing to the rage-beast in the air, "We would likely need to confine him as we have the champions Brand and Nocturne, so as to ensure the safety of others until such time as he can compete."
"He's just a kid," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I had looked away from Gnar- it hurt to see him like this, furious and terrifying and utterly helpless. I couldn't get the image of his frightened eyes begging for my help to fade out of the forefront of my mind. I heard a popping sound, and only dully realized it was coming from my knuckles.
Despite the distance between us, the summoners still heard me. "Innocence is not an excuse for dangerous behavior, Champion Vi."
Something inside me snapped. "You wanna know where you can shove your freaking-"
"Vi," Caitlyn spoke over me, adopting her authoritative voice once more, "That's enough."
"No, it's not!" I shouted back at her. "He's not some animal, and you want them to cage him up like one?!"
"It is the way things are," the summoners responded. "If the inducted champion is likely to harm the people of Valoran, we have no choice."
"SHUT U-" I screamed, but in the midst of my rage the words froze in my throat, thoughts put on lockdown as if my brain had been caught in a massive vice, its origins impossible to figure out from the skull-splitting agony. I wanted to grip my head, to make the pain stop, but my body refused to listen, my muscles frozen in place. My eyes stared ahead, directly at the High Summoners I had dared to defy, and in the moment of infinite pain and utter helplessness I felt like a drop of water to a tsunami, so unfathomably out of my league that all of my anger was immediately replaced with blind, unfeeling fear. I felt my vision grow dark, my eyes losing focus as the vice grip on my mind tightened, and a single thought made its way through the pain, through the fear, through the absolute mental lockdown, repeating itself in an echoing symphony in my head. Hold your tongue, Champion Vi.
I came to my senses lying on the ground, drool dripping from my open mouth onto the floor. My eyes were wide open and had been that way for some time, ache from drying tissue almost negligible with the way my head pounded in pain. I felt my body shaking, although my muscles were not the cause. Hands pushed at my shoulders, shaking the disorientation from me until I heard Caitlyn's voice begging me to wake up. I blinked my eyes and her words ceased their repetition, and it took me a minute more to recover the mental faculties that had been shut down by the summoner's magic. I felt myself shivering and only got control of it when Caitlyn helped me to my feet. "Will you behave?" the voice of the summoners rang out.
"Y-Yes," I said, the words coming from my mouth without thought, as the concept of thinking was too painful.
"High Summoners," Caitlyn said, desperately trying to avoid letting her concern show in her voice, "Perhaps there is a way to determine Gnar's disposition and capacity for violence. If we can show that he is docile, perhaps the confinement reserved for dangerous champions would not be necessary. Perhaps… Gnar could undergo a Judgment."
As my mental faculties returned to me I realized what she was suggesting. Judgment was an older method of inducting League champions, a practice that hadn't been used in years. Champions-to-be would enter an entirely dark room, alone with their mind, and would be forced to relive memories of their past, moments in their lives that defined them, in order to judge their skills, their ambitions, even their darkest secrets. While it was an extremely effective method of induction, the magic came at a price- many would-be champions were driven mad by the magic, the invasion of their mind too much for them to bear. Others couldn't handle what they saw, and were driven to the depths of depression and despair when confronted with phantoms of their past. It was eventually deemed too hazardous and costly of a practice, and was discontinued.
I could feel a thrumming sensation in the air, and my best guess was that it originated from the summoners, who were communing among themselves. They inclined their heads slowly towards Gnar, and my gaze followed to the massive beast whose rage had yet to subside despite his helplessness. I felt anger beginning to boil in my gut, but before I could open my mouth I felt an absolute cold take root, cutting away the anger and making the sides of my head hurt from a sudden but brief vice-like grip on my mind, remnants of the magic designed to keep me in line. I grimaced but kept quiet, and kept my eyes on Gnar long enough to see a purple mist coalesce around Gnar's eyes. The mist was translucent, but within it glowed sparks of powerful magic that danced around Gnar's face. Even without sound emitting from his voice it became clear that he was slowly losing his rage and within moments his rolling muscle and dark red fur had returned to Gnar's original yordle size and shape. He seemed absolutely exhausted as the magic slowly laid him to the ground, and without thinking I immediately picked him up in my arms, leveling a warning gaze at the summoners even though there wasn't much stopping them from doing it all over again.
"It is a viable option," the summoners spoke, and I felt their words echo in triplicate in my head, making the migraine they had caused double over on me until I was seeing stars. "But this one's mind is too old. We would require a catalyst, someone who has not undergone Judgment to accompany the yordle into the chamber. Through their eyes we may judge Gnar, and through our eyes, they too will be judged."
I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach, and I looked to Caitlyn to see her reaction. She had turned to look right at me. I saw the worry in her eyes, the look that said 'don't do it if you don't want to', but I had already made up my mind. "Judge me," I said slowly, stepping forward with Gnar asleep in my arms. I felt their gaze fall on me again and a white-hot fear, remnants of the pain of their control spell, gripped me momentarily.
"Very well, Champion Vi," three voices spoke, in unison. The resonation in my head redoubled, and with a grimace I turned to see a crack grow in one of the walls, opening a pair of ancient stone doors that had been imperceptibly fused with the wall in their age and lack of us. Within was an absolute darkness, the kind that seemed as if it would extend to the rest of the world if left alone. "Prepare yourselves for judgment."