When the walls come down and worlds collide, those who remember peace lose the most.
When the sky comes falling down, and fire falls from the heavens, when the waves come to flood the land and death surrounds the world, none can convince the certain that the nightmare has never been so.
Burned long ago by the fire of future, what was is no longer.
A parasite lurks among us.
A parasite not visible at first, for it keeps itself hidden.
It holds a form similar to us, but foreign all of its own.
Yet it insists it is of us, one of us, and belonging to us.
Upon the winds comes a message, not by echoes, calls or horns. A message in a language lost by those who themselves grow separate from nature itself.