A wand danced the air about them, drawn by an unseen hand, and leaving trails of crimson mist that hung in the air and bled down to the earth. The mists formed words. They read thus:

HERE LIE THE FAITHLESS, THE AVERSIVE, THE UNFED AND UNFULFILLED.

The stone beneath Farin’s feet gaped wide and shrieked with a hundred million voices. The earth’s dead were spit out, only they had no stomachs, and their eyes were absent from the sockets and dotted the depths below. They stumbled forth, blind and naked, their lower ribs uniformly broken and their bowls torn out by fingers. Their driver was a very old man, who in life had feigned to be holy, and he urged them forth to a very black river with the rash glee of a perverse child that likes to strike wounded animals.

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