Illimitable

It was here, then, that all would come to an end. My destruction was assured, my only hope was that my soul would soar free of this place and not be consumed like that of so many others.

The pipes that pierced the harbor floor were not merely leftovers from constructions, they were more akin to feeding tubes. My heart pumped icy blood as I contemplated the poor, souls who were feed to that thing, through the tubes. There was, I realized, no order or justice in this universe, only a limitless hunger to consume and expand.

And Blake, what of dear Blake? I was happy that he had escaped the clutches of those that served He, but to what end? I know he returned here with the IKON, he too would have figured out that It dreamed within the ooze and mud deposited from the River Tarn, that It called out to the dreams of the sensitive, that It lured men, women and children alike to a watery grave.

Blake was a man of principles and ideals. He knew his life was null and void the second he stepped into the town limits of Tarnmouth, I knew this of myself too and felt no melancholy, just a dull, knowing ache that my destiny was at hand. Blake too would have felt this and, even though he has escaped from the sweaty grasp of mortal men, knew that the hooks of It had ensnared his soul and he would never be truly free. So, he would have returned here with the IKON, he would have slid into the frigid waters of the harbor and, taking a few deep breaths, he would have kicked his way beneath the surface and dived, heading downwards, away from the light with no intention of ever returning, he would have sunk through those illimitable abysses, light receding behind him, the first hints of ooze caressing benumbed fingers. And then, when his head pounded and his lungs burned to the point of release, he would have seen the nether-light, and even then Blake would continue, pushing down with the IKON, sinking now, towards the greenish devil-light and a glorious fulfillment.