The dead are coming now. I cannot stop them. Save the world, if you can, but know that, in the end, death is what matters. Run all you like, one day you will be running with them, trying to get out that gate, longing to breathe just once more, to see, to touch—anything, even something bad. No one sleeps peacefully down here, and all the nightmares of the living world are welcome comforts to the forgotten shades under the earth. We will all be forgotten and nameless one day too.
Run! They’re coming. Close the gate; save the world.
Tale Told 