The Leviathan dreams of the Void from which it came. Uncountable arms twitch as it sleeps, the suckers pulsing as they remember grabbing, moving, being. The sea folk that call its massive bulk home ascribe the movements to earthquakes, blissfully unaware that their home was beginning to stir.

Soon the Leviathan would wake, the whale mothers whispered to their children. Soon the turgid limbs would flare with life, rising from the wet earth that held them, heedless of the beings that called its hide home. The enormous eyes would open and stare with indifference at the destruction its awakening caused. It would rise, death and horror trailing, floating in the currents of its movements, and bend time and space around it as it finally climbed back into the void that birthed it.

Soon, the whales knew.

Soon.

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