The wind blows through the night, circling a hill under a red moon. Beneath the lunar eclipse, a girl stands. Twin pairs of space-shredding wings sprout from her back. Horns that herald the end of the world emerge from her scalp. A gem, a sign of the one blessed by the Creator herself, is embedded into her forehead. A tail, forged from oblivion, whips behind her. The trees bend away from her, as the very foundation of this world rejects her presence.

Alecreation is here. Alecreation is here. The Great Filter is here.