When the door gave? A judgement. Jagged and gaping. An ugly maw stretched wide. When the men came, they were wolves smiling. White wolves, with ice eyes. My brother spat, I remember this. Two sounds, like a clock turning. Defiance and death.
The crack of his neck rang my chest hollow. And when my mother screamed the world beneath kept crumbling away. They clawed her to the ground. There was little else after.
Except fracturing, over and over.
How many times can you break?—
You learn that your hands are not enough to stop a flood.