“I love you,” she said again. And it was true because she was a god, and anything she said was true – if it wasn’t true she couldn’t have said it. Some think the gods lie, but gods can’t lie – they can only change their minds.

“Be with me,” she said. “I want you to rule this world with me. I want you to be my King, my Lord Of Darkness to sit by my side as we rule this world, and this world’s heaven and this world’s hell, you and I. We co -“

Her tongue clove to the top of her mouth. She couldn’t remember what she was going to say. Then Simone, the demon made flesh, thought, “Tell him we could rule this world together.” And she made to say it but found she didn’t know the words.

“We Are The End Of Days,” spake The Apocalypse. The four mouths were trumpets. There were four voices, no, a multitude of sounds – an infirmary ward, the sound of crows watching the field bloom with a torn and red harvest. Dogs howled and steel shrieked, and pleas for mercy went unheard. “Your lust is immaterial, Goddess.”