In the year when the sky bleeds without a wound,
and time drips without an hourglass,
when dreams run dry and crows fall silent,
then shall he open his eyes.

His name shall be whispered by mouths that never spoke,
carved into flesh by hands long rotted.
The earth shall tremble not in fear,
but in recognition.

For Vorrak’tul comes not to conquer.
He does not march.
He does not roar.
He merely exists.

And where He exists, existence shall cease.

Three bells of flesh shall toll in unison:
the first in the darkness of the sun,
the second upon the tongue of a newborn born without eyes,
and the third, within the heart of a man who smiles the moment the world shatters.”

“That smile will be the last thing the universe ever sees.”

____________________________

"The end shall have no beginning. Vorrak’tul is already among us.
You just haven’t realized you’ve seen him.”