You stand at the precipice, mortal. You have sought what should remain unseen, a truth too grand, too terrible for your fragile comprehension. Now, the veil is rent, and the Uncountable stirs.
You stand at the precipice, mortal. You have sought what should remain unseen, a truth too grand, too terrible for your fragile comprehension. Now, the veil is rent, and the Uncountable stirs.