Mother Earth.

Chapter 8: Visions Of The Second Dawn.

Chris Chalut, Alphonsus.

Cologne Cathedral,

The year 2167.

A well of molten rock, charged with lightning in a boiling pot of burnt bramble, sprouting from the ashes of humanity as storms swell, burying the sun, turning day into night-

"The Converging of Both Paths-"

With a blink, the bowed heads returned with their hands clasped over their heads. Head was the hissing voice of Armageddon, crisp and haunting as it was, with his tattooed body obscured with pale green hands of inked-on moss all over them, midnight vestments embroidered with winding branches of Mother Earth's reach depicted up his sleeves, all reaching for the beating, molten bramble heart at the center of it all. Clear, clean water anew in ripples as magma cooled underneath the split earth on the back of his midnight black cassock. "My children, hold the corpses of Her flora in your dry hands, and water will return to your willing hearts: gardens in your name from fertile fallen bodies!"

Marble pillars of gold with arches fifty stories high loom over the praying hands. Stained-glass windows cast a stark red glow across their willing bodies, painting their white clothing red and the walls in pale blood—a golden coffin encased in murky glass with lit candles, wax falling upon golden stands. The heat of the flame graced Chris's arm. He stood steadfast with his arms at his side, observing.

His golden eyes burst into a sudden glow, spiralling markings growing longer from the corners of his eyes, winding at a converging point along his jaw. He winced as the agony of a thousand visions- a thousand fates crashed like the rising tide in the same instant his eyes shined the golden shimmer-

A great storm swept the globe, with hundreds of millions of voices crying out, all in prayer for one name—Armageddon.

Alphonsus' voice climbed higher, moving his body in such a manner to convince the thousands that peaked their heads up that their God was speaking through him. His hands rose in a trembling ecstasy, eyes wide as if he saw everything he spoke of. Perhaps he did. "Even from the ashes that Armageddon revealed Itself from all those decades ago, observing our hand in our extinction, It still guides our sorry souls! GUIDING TO THE TOTALITY OF EVERYTHING!"

Shrill voices from the crowd cried out in unison: "Praise thy child!"

Hundreds of rows of pews in the grand halls of the cathedral rang out in prayer, a yearning to die so that they would fulfill all purpose- they controlled their fate by welcoming the destiny all were doomed to.

"With your undying devotion, The Child of Armageddon will bring us greenery! Bring us fresh water, the fruit of our faith in the blood returned to Mother Earth. It is almost here, my children!-"

Chris's head began to throb, placing his hand on his forehead. His sleeveless leather jacket strangled his arms as he did, revealing the winding branches along his muscles with the same symbol of what was to come on his back- Mother Earth split open with Her life's blood pouring into the storm. The crackling visions in a quarl of hurricanes ravaging the shores ceased, his eyes dulling in a golden glow as a tear came to his eye reflexively, the spirals returning to their original state.

One more rise in Alphonsus's voice came about; the words that spilled from his mouth were sure to reach into each heart of the faithful and command the attention of the entirety of the cosmos-

"-THE SECOND DAWN OF MOTHER EARTH AS ARMAGEDDON'S CHILD BREATHES ITS LAST UPON THE TREE OF TOTALITY: MAY ITS BLOOD AND OURS MIX INTO THE ESSENCE THAT WILL BRING HER FORTH WHEN SHE TAKES BACK WHAT IS HERS!"