His words dripped with a psychotic devotion to destruction. Shadows burst outward in concentric spirals, forming monstrous, faceless giants, each one taller than mountains.
They rammed into Gluttony's form, impaling themselves on his void flesh only to dissolve into nothing, yet Shade clapped with excitement, watching each annihilation like a maestro conducting his orchestra.
The sound of his applause, or the sound that would have been applause if it existed in a world not bending under Gluttony's pull, sounded like the breaking of a universe.
Gluttony's response was subtle at first. He shifted, extending one of his massive limbs, and the ground beneath Shade's feet trembled violently.
Shadows that Shade thought were part of him twisted involuntarily, writhing against his command as if they too felt the pull of something older, hungrier, more absolute than Shade himself.
