Compilation Of Short Stories
The mortals, a dozen or so, moved with a dreamlike slowness to kneel at the edge of the dais, baring their throats and wrists in a silent, willing offering.
Aethone raised her hands, and the very air seemed to thicken, to hum with a low, resonant frequency. “We gather in the shadow of the Unspoken,” she intoned, her voice weaving through the silence like smoke. “We offer this vessel of desire, this wine of life, to stir the Sleeper from His ancient slumber. For our yearning is His breath. Our ecstasy, His awakening.”