The painting depicting the arrival of the great being was a rare nighttime scene. Deep blue pigments were used in abundance, the cold moonlight outlining the one who had descended—a being of countless tentacles.
They were tentacles, not feelers, for they were slender and long. Then, It enveloped the entire island. The other gods seemed to have withdrawn, leaving It to reign supreme. Its countless tentacles transformed into silken threads that wound themselves around the skies above the cities and fields.
Some humans and Elves prostrated themselves before It, while the governor and other dignitaries of the Old Empire tossed aside their exquisite wine glasses, some clutching their bathrobes as they fled in a mad panic. The soldiers of the Old Empire began to battle the Rebel Army of Istani.
