The world ended.

Projected from all four eyes, they saw it, paralysed beneath, trapped in their colour cages, mad geometric shapes allowing perfect views upon the obscene rite playing out before them.

Projected out his eyes.

Projected out of what he had induced in all of them. Their being trapped. Their being. Their being witnesses to this. Pheel realised; this was as much a part of the ritual as any of this. That they be here. That he pull it out of each of them.

From each of the doom chambers a shaft of reality, in no terms light, in no terms anything comparable to a beam of anything except that -

A slick layer of a flat plane of – it couldn't be described except in miniscule instances of apprehension – this material-non-material was the thing out of which reality itself was moulded, conceived, constructed - it departed from them; through the doom chambers in a shaft that -

That met all four eyes and when it did -

Old Works -

Old Works itself was incorporated there -

a flash/a manifestation, an enactment – an enchantment out a vast and evil ritual that went back far beyond the visible layers of any of this. They saw it each of them - maybe they were made to, maybe they had to, maybe it only could be seen that way out of them,

the Queen on the air and the Wound by her: corpses of forces; interpretations in minds that -

were forced to accommodate them or perish,

Doom chambers that trapped each of them paralysed inside them, merely eyes now, merely eyes, merely eyes-eyes; forced to see, forced to see the destructions of

A space that had been a room, in some conception; in some manner a space that could be conceived or defined as such became - they were beneath – beneath the presence of Old Works: something far stranger.

The Wound and his mother hung back behind, always visible; all of it.

The four heroes trapped beneath were solely witnesses in the doom chambers that paralysed them in the repeated exploitation of the worst of themselves.

But between both these tiers, out their eyes - out the chambers out the final structures of reality itself, combined in enacting it here, they saw -

Old Works.

The Entire Structure.

The entire three-tiered civilisation, of which it was the necessary centre, the brain, the body, the mind, Old Works, the soul, of the final combined reality out of which this - artificial reality had kept – breathing this

OLD WORKS>

They saw the whole thing between them.

The corridors. The Cyclops. The connections; those people, products, crimes, transported between. - The fuel of the fantasies of billions upon billions of the unknowingly enslaved, all this - all this between the corridor shaft the talented one-eyed slaves saw there, all of it, Old Works. The final reality and structure itself of the whole thing combined. It was there.

They saw it.

Old Works.

It was there.

And then he set the fires of nothing through it.