I saw her body writhe--as though it shared the agony of the Shape that held her. Her head twisted; the great eyes, pools of uncomprehending, unbelieving horror, stared into mine. With a spasmodic, infinitely dreadful movement the Disk closed-- And closed upon her! Norhala was gone--was shut within it. Crushed to the pent fires of its crystal heart. I heard a sobbing, agonized choking--knew it was I who sobbed. Against me I felt Ruth's body strike, bend in convulsive arc, drop inert. The slender steeple of the cones drooped sending its faceted coronet shattering to the floor. The Mount melted. Beneath the flooding radiance sprawled Keeper and the great inert Globe that was the Goddess woman's sepulcher. The crater filled with the pallid luminescence. Faster and ever faster it poured down into the Pit. And from all the lesser craters of the smaller cones swept silent cataracts of the same pale radiance. The City began to crumble--the Monster to fall. Like pent-up waters rushing through a broken dam the gleaming deluge swept over the valley; gushing in steady torrents from the breaking mass. Over the valley fell a vast silence. The lightnings ceased. The Metal Hordes stood rigid, the shining flood lapping at their bases, rising swiftly ever higher. Now from the sinking City swarmed multitudes of its weird luminaries. Out they trooped, swirling from every rent and gap--orbs scarlet and sapphire, ruby orbs, orbs tuliped and irised--the jocund suns of the birth chamber and side by side with them hosts of the frozen, pale gilt, stiff rayed suns. Thousands upon thousands they marched forth and poised themselves solemnly over all the Pit that now was a fast rising lake of yellow froth of sun flame. They swept forth in squadrons, in companies, in regiments, those mysterious orbs. They floated over all the valley; they separated and swung motionless above it as though they were mysterious multiple souls of fire brooding over the dying shell that had held them. Beneath, thrusting up from the lambent lake like grotesque towers of some drowned fantastic metropolis, the great Shapes stood, black against its glowing. What had been the City--that which had been the bulk of the Monster--was now only a vast and shapeless hill from which streamed the silent torrents of that released, unknown force which, concentrate and bound, had been the cones. As though it was the Monster's shining life-blood it poured, raising ever higher in its swift flooding the level radiant lake. Lower and lower sank the immense bulk; squattered and spread, ever lowering--about its helpless, patient crouching something ineffably piteous, something indescribably, COSMICALLY tragic. Abruptly the watching orbs shook under a hail of sparkling atoms streaming down from the glittering sky; raining upon the lambent lake. So thick they fell that now the brooding luminaries were dim aureoles within them.