Alhazred had tried to describe the being, calling it some sort of immense, near immortal thing that was like an octopus, a dragon, and a deformed parody of the human form. There was a pulpy, tentacled head whose face was a mass of feelers atop a grotesque, scaly body. In other passages, he talked of a giant many-limbed worm of vast intelligence, not dead, not alive, but aware of us tiny things on the planet’s surface. It waited, to wake, every few millennia, testing and checking to see if the bounty of Earth had replenished enough for it to pour forth from the pit like some sort of rupturing infection and consume us all.

How could it hide, or remain undetected? Matt wondered. Perhaps it was too deep for us to see with our primitive instruments, or so large, we thought it nothing but some sort of massive underground ocean.

A touch on his shoulder.

“Jesus.” Matt jumped.

Baruk smiled. “Sorry, Professor. But it’s time to get ready.”

Matt smiled weakly at the Israeli. “I was lost – a million miles underground. Alhazred has been there; he described it in a poem.” He slumped for a moment, before looking up again, feeling slightly befuddled. His eyes wouldn’t refocus on the man, as if they longed to be back on the page. “What did you say?”

Baruk handed him another glass of water. “I said, we need to get ready. Final briefing before we depart.” He snorted softly. “You haven’t moved for hours.”

“Hours?” Matt checked his watch, a little alarmed at the time. He nodded. “I’m nearly done.” He turned back to the last few pages. It was there, and it wasn’t. The information sat in his mind unprocessed. The languages, the warnings, and the poems – all would have meanings that needed to be dissected and analyzed.

“I need more time. There’s some I still can’t understand.” He read on, hurrying now, searching for, and then finding, what he was looking for – where the Great Old One would come next, and how.

A jagged pain ripped through his skull, and Matt sat back pressing his temples. The pain passed, but there was a residue of screams and howls in his head that was like a tornado loosed from hell. There were voices, not just human, but of things that existed so long ago they were now little more than bones pinned together in museums. They were all trapped, in both the pages of the Book, and within the monstrous consumer of all things, Cthulhu.

And with its image, came its plans. “There’s a poem here.” Matt now knew where. “The Gated Deep; his gate…” Matt pointed to the page. “It’s why the original caves were useless to us. It moves – his portal of return will be where the convergence is closest to the Earth, right now.” Matt turned to Baruk. “What part of the earth will be facing the celestial convergence when it is at its absolute peak?” He closed his eyes. “Because that is where Cthulhu will rise again.”