He turned to look us and at me in particular, I have no idea why. “And now you will see the truth of it; which is that the Flashback, the time-storm, more than just an unfathomable, impersonal force, has physical form. It has a face. And that face is looking upon us even now.” He raised a hand and brought it down, crisply, decisively. “The face of Algrathach, of They Who Walk the Clouds. Yea, his very body—to whom we offer these three souls!”
And then the tarp was being pulled free (even as the fountain was ignited), sliding from the shape like an octopus, clinging to it—briefly—like tentacles, as the thing on the cross was bared for all to see and Linda gasped, fighting her bonds—as I looked at it and saw something vaguely human (but with tapered eyes and a tapered head, goat-like horns,
