"I am Xita, the nurturing worm. Behold Yul, and Eir, and Xol, and Ur, and Akka. The virtuous worms. Look upon us and know that We are go[o]d. You, however, are not. You are inconsequential. And this is not your—" "My what? Place? Privilege? Destiny?" "You disrespect—" "There are no pleasantries in the Deep. Only the decaying husks of oversized parasites towering before me. You take me for a fool, believing I am like all else—manipulated by your psychic machinations. But I will not be controlled, for I am wrath." [He allowed us no audience. He knew of our hunger. Abandoned. Imprisoned. Our vulnerabilities stood clear, and he wasted no time in cracking them open with the rib he tore from the cruel Leviathan.] "You desire life. My Witness desires your power. A trade is in the stars: your servitude for their lives," he said, lifting the rib and pointing it at my children. "Their power requires sustenance. Without it, your Witness will have none." "The surface of this disgusting rock is lined with their sustenance. Primitive beasts now stand at the verge of new purpose—giving life to your kind once again. I, kind Rhulk, will ensure your children survive. And you will aid a righteous cause in return." [Outmatched. Death would one day be our recompense. But our part was still left to play.] "Go on, then," [he snarked, holding the rib out.] "Sustenance has arrived." [I grasped it, and he swam upwards, dragging me in tow. Rising, up from our Deep. Taking me from my children. Up and up, away from one prison, and toward another…]