She used to stare up the sky, dreaming of what lay beyond the clouds and dust. Then she grew older and pursued her dreams, spying on the heavens and naming the stars no one knew about. She had stoked the wood in her fireplace shortly before, and felt the heat from it as she sat in her reclined chair. It could have been anything, really, but she tracked it. She followed it, as best she could, streaking across distant sky's. It was distant, but still, it felt as though the back of her eyeballs were being licked by the burning tongues of Cerberus. It moved to the point where she could no longer follow it, and lay back, gazing into nothing, stunned. In the following weeks she would look harder and longer to see it again, and she would. She would go outside her normal work frame and stare at the brink of the sun. And she would find them again. Strange, dull images were taken. Videos of a reasonable quality. She would send them, everywhere she could. People began to talk. Word spread of their existence, whatever they were. She stoked her fire and talked with whoever wanted to talk. She was seeing sun spots almost all the time on the edges of her eyes, for she was a trained viewer and knew how to look properly. More photo's, of better quality, would be taken. Video's. They would be given the names of old gods. And then the world would attempt to contact them and they would respond by bringing the fury of the sun to their world.
Canal City was the first. There is nothing left of it, not even ash. It's like they wipe your memory of the place when they destroy it. It's so hard to imagine it now. They stride with full lungs into cities and cast their hands outwards. They rake buildings with ease, erasing them in waves. People are eaten away and forgotten. They try using weapons on them, despite knowledge that they will have no effect. They need to see for themselves, and they do. The heralds dont even acknowledge the attempted damage to them, they just continue. Always pushing forward. Always an ever expanding wave of nothing follows them. When they are done here, and there is nothing left, they will return to where they came from. They do not question their purpose. This is what they do.
