[ It is spoken, and the thing—the demon?—does not wait for another answer. The whisper (and it is somehow, still, a whisper) reaches the volume of a roar. ]

To d͘evo҉ur a̕n͢d͡ ȩx͏p̧and̛ing ̛g̵enom͜e͝ –̕ ͝the͜ ͞s̵tra̸n̷gl҉i̕ǹg͟ ҉f͞r͝u̢ìt͜—́aǹd͜ ̷t͏h͜é ̸wo̢rld ͏wįt̨h́ ͞th͟e̢ ҉powęr͏ o҉f t̕h҉èi͞r ͝b͠ody ̡and ͏t͞urne̢d ҉v͢in͠e͏ ri͝vulet̷,͜ ͞s͘u҉r̢vivȩd̵
͝ ̷ ̷ ̶ ̷ ̢ ̀ ̴of͡ ͜re̡s̸t͟les̸s; i̶ ͢c̵on̶fe͢s͢s, i͢ t͡o̕o ha͘ve͠ bee͞n. ́In̛ the b͡l͏ís͏s͢ of not-know̴in̛g.͘ An̴d th͝én ̵t͡hèŗe̛ ҉i̷s n̵o ͢sįn̴ i̛n͟ ͢s̢h҉a̶d̵o͏w o̷r̕ in t͟he̸ ͞śi̵n͡ner͟ ̀s͡h́àĺl r̵ęjo͡i̶ce͜, ́for̶ t͠he͡r͞e͘ ̕s̢h͝al͘l̴ ac̀q̸ui҉r̨e every ̛ĺi̴fe i̴s̴ ͠a qui͠et͠
k͞in̸d ͞o͜f dying ̡i͠n̴ ̵t̕he p͢lant͝ing ̨in al̵way͏s wai̴t̶i̧ng
͏ ̨ ͢ ́ ̶ ҉ ͝ ̢ ͏ ́ ͞ s̴k̸in̸;̢ ҉what̵ ͜pa͞rt̵s ͠óf ́us ͠w̸er͜ę ̀b̡orn ̵i̴n̕t̸o͢ a ͡h͞ist̡ory ǫf̀ s̢elf̶ ̛is ͏a̛ ̷s͞uìc͠id̨e
̵ ̢ ͏ ͢ ͢ ̸ ̧ ̵ ̶ ҉ ͝ ͝ her͝e͝, ̢ev́e̴ry áir, ̵w͡e͏ari̴n͝g͘ w̕ings͟ ͏o̶f the̛ eąrt̨h, I am̛ rot҉ted̕ ̷o͟u͏t by ͘bee͝s. ̴T̸he̶y ar͡e͝ c̵hai͟n̢e͠d̶ u̸p
̷& ̶na̸rr͟ow̧ęd̷ ́down,҉ ͢viśi̕on̵ ҉fill̡ed w͠ith̶ a͢ ̀st͞r̢a̵įǵh͘t hor̶i͢z͝on

a̢n̕d̛ the f̸ear̷