The Chronophage's hands met at midnight.
The sound was not a chime. It was not a tick. It was the noise of finality, like the sound of a tomb being sealed forever.
A blinding flood of radiant white light burst outward from the faceless dial, sweeping across the world in a wave of annihilation. It tore through Asher first. His immortal flesh could not resist; it was no longer fire and bone, but ash caught in a storm. His body unraveled into countless radiant white particles, scattering upward like dust motes in a beam of sunlight. He roared, but the sound died with his lungs, his jaw disintegrating mid-cry until there was nothing left but brilliance.
The erasure did not stop there.
