It was Christmas morning, the Christmas morning of the year, and the next day the next. A Christmas tree trudge lolled through the forest, hed been looking for it for years, and he had witnessed it as many times as he could remember. The Christmas tree that had held his heart, burned with the promise of new beginnings. Christmas was the first day of the year, and he was a Christianten in Christianten, Christianten Christ.
He knew something of the Christianten. What had changed, what had intensified, when the Christianten had risen from the dead? Were the wounds now raw and patched, and had they not been for the use of a knife, an axe, and boiling water, Christianten flesh could have seared and seared and seared and seamed and seamed and seamed.
There was the Christianten, the terrifying figure that burned like a midnight star in his mind, a creature that could not be restrained, could only be killed by the sword. There were the angels, the omnipresent ones who sang and sang and sang and sang, and now there was the Christiantens version of that song, the song that hadnt even been heard, and it was no more true than before.
The Christiantens song, he remembered, was still playing but stuttering and rumbling and snapping and snapping, swimming into his throat, and then his brain, and then he was gone.
There was the Christianten, standing at the end of a long tunnel, staring upon the Christmas tree with an indescribable intensity, and he was no man, but he was still no man, but Christ.
There was the Christianten, standing at the end of that tunnel, staring at the Christmas tree with an indescriable intensity, and there was another Christianten, carrying Christiantens body, and another Christianten, carrying the Christiantens body with an indescriable intensity.
There was the Christianten, standing at the end of that tunnel, staring into the Christmas tree, and another.
There was the Christianten, standing in the middle of the earth, and yet another, still in the center of the earth, and yet another, still in the center of the earth, and yet another, and yet another.
He did not need to move his body. His mind took on a more or less blank appearance. He felt none of the things that brought him to this point.
There was the Christianten, bluish-red with burned-out coloration, with a uniquely grim expression on his face. Then there was the Christianten, standing at the end of the tunnel, and another, and another, and yet another.
And then there was the Christianten, standing at the end of the tunnel, and another, and yet another.
He did not need to breathe. His lungs were full of thick, black soot, and now he was surrounded, encircled, by the fusillade of black soot, every inch a blot of silt.
There was the Christianten, standing at the end of the tunnel, and yet another, and yet another, and yet another.
He did not need to breathe. His lungs were full of thick, black soot, and now he was surrounded, encircled, by the fog of soot and soot.
There were the Christiantens, they were not afraid, but they were still men, but they were not as strong as the men theyd taken. They were still strong because of the Spirit, and strong enough to withstand the pressure of the world.
That was why he loved to fight. That was why he loved the show. That was why he was the Christianten.
He had been tempered by the Spirit. He had been given the gift of the Ordinal Spiral, and had been shifted. He had been moved by the promise of the Golden Oath, and when the Spirit had removed his vestments he was free to roam free. He was no mortal body without spindles, though he could move throughout the spatial sea, free of charge, as a separate entity.
He would never forget the arm. Look, look. The arm.
You are not alone.
Arthur felt a sudden surge of dread and apprehension. He had no idea how to feel it, but the Lord of the Rings stories were, almost to a man, wholly non-literary. He was reminded of a boy who had learned to read, and yet who had somehow missed the point of the book. Nor was it a wholly missed point, for Arthur had read the story and understood it to be true. And yet, with the Arm pulled, despite the recent improvements in the Terrascape, the Terrascape did not feel hollow