"Awake, Oldster."
The serene, yet lordly voice echoed through and through that immeasurably deep cavern of thoughtlessness where Oldster resided.
"Awake, and awake to the high moment of your long life."
Awareness came to Oldster, awareness strong and lashing. His vast body heaved and writhed as he beheld the icy horror of his return to life. For from outside this packet of cancelling forces that was himself had come a voice.
"No!" The word shouted within him: yet he knew its violence had reached him who had so cruelly shattered his dream of night. "No! Whoever you are, whatever, leave me! Ah, you have made me live again—as Sun Destroyer—and Vanguard—"
"And it is of Vanguard we would speak." The thought vibrated in serene, lordly compassion against his thought swirls. "Now, you who were known as Devil Star, look upon us!"
Wave upon wave of horror engulfed him as that command drove in. He would not! The rebel thought endured only long enough to be swept away by the shattering failures of his life. He was not master. Not to fight, not to reach—ah, there would have lain happiness!
Thinly at first his visions moved from him—then in thick beams that would bring full revelation of his tormentor.
And as he saw, he lay silent in emptiness, quiet in his congealed wonder. For here was splendor, these rank upon endless rank of beings, hanging in somber immovableness against that lightless sky. And here also was destiny.
Their formless thoughts flowed around him, without discord, with peace.