PROLOGUE
Quintus
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I felt the world stop, rousing me from fitful sleep.
I looked about, breathing in deep.
I am home, been so for years.
Still I am anchored, weighted there.
My sense of the Watchmen is strong;
I am wrapped in their gaze. The sense lingers
Even as I leave my seat and stand on my two feet.
I see eyes, eyes everywhere;
I hear voices, a song with endless verses.
The music is a ringing in my ears.
My body walks, my hand writes;
Still my bones shake, struggle for flight.
Away from the eyes, the voices, and the fire...
My memories carry me back...
Back to that accursed place
Back to that sorrowful face
And the Horror!
The Horror—
—I cannot name.
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