And she had been awakened, she had risen.
That music of yours could wake the dead. I'd done it again.
Oh, if only I could keep my eyes open, could only think, if the sun wasn't rising.
She had been there in San Francisco, she had been that close to us, burning our enemies.
Alien, utterly foreign, yes.
But not uncivilized, no, not savage.
She was not that.
She was only just reawakened, my
goddess, risen like a magnificent butterfly from its cocoon.
And what was the world to her?
How had she come to us? What was the state of her mind?
Danger to all of us. No. I don't
believe it! She had slain our enemies.
She had come to us.
But I couldn't fight the drowsiness and heaviness any longer.
Pure sensation was driving out
all wonder and excitement.
My body grew limp and helplessly still against the earth.
And then I felt a hand suddenly close on mine.
Cold as marble it was, and just about that strong.
My eyes snapped open in the darkness.
The hand tightened its grip. A great mass of silken
hair brushed my face.
A cold arm moved across my chest.
Oh, please, my darling, my beautiful one, please!
I wanted to say.
But my eyes were closing!
My lips wouldn't move.
I was losing consciousness.
The sun had risen above.