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THE TOMB
Just beneath the surface of the psionic’s consciousness, a whisper senses a mind screaming in a language it knows very well, a language spoken only by those who live their lives close to the sky. For a moment its voice falls silent, allowing Neb a moment of stillness within his own mind. Soon, however, the whisper resumes its speaking with a delighted, gloating note ringing in its words.
So there is something of him left here after all. How delightfully convenient that death has treated him so poorly! ..... Yes! To sleep, perchance to dream! Ah! But what dreams are possible within the grave? Why nightmares! Visions of terror filling a sleep that does not end. O! How utterly delightful! ..... Yes! My last enemy, you who died unbroken shall be broken in death. And this herald of mine shall bear me deep within these terrible fears born here in your grave after all of your hopes have turned to dust and bone ..... O yes! ..... I must remember to properly thank that one who has managed to keep your dreams of terror so deliciously vivid. O! To taste and savor this after so very long a wait!
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