He crouched in the dust and gnawed on a bone. It was long since cracked and sucked until it was barely more than dust itself. There was no other sustenance to be had.
A man appeared before him. New flesh, new blood. He crouched, letting his dry-dust bone fall away.
“Hold, demon!” said the man. “I offer you a bargain. Follow me and devour a world of my enemies.”
“I will turn on you, sorcerer, when nothing is left. These bones are his who called me here, ages past.”
The man nodded. “It will be enough to see them fall.”
The Paradox Of Tarleton’s Pebble
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