The darkness creeps into your bones, and you know, feeble as you are, that the world took up arms against you. All you have left is your will and your sanity, both fragile, both slipping. And so you hole up in the dark, hiding under your sheets, praying that those who stalk through the night won't find you - that you, precious prey now, will be spared from the fate that was chosen for you. But God does not listen, for he is dead, and all that's left is the howling of beasts.

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