They lived in the shade of the High Mountain, which made it easier for her. When she came, they were lined up in the streets, heads bowed for their daily prayer. Hundreds of shadows slid down the mountain as her fleet eclipsed the Sun, and the worshipers looked up.
The worshipers pointed; a pregnant, black behemoth slowed over the mountain, covering the city in darkness. The worshipers shook their fists, and they yelled at her.
They said, “You will never destroy our beliefs.”
They said, “You will never kill us all.”
They said, “You will never have him back. The Heretic will burn.”
She said, “You took what was mine.”
With tears in her eyes, she smiled. Above the High Mountain, the pregnant behemoth opened up, revealing a vast weapon brimming with light.
She said, “And if you refuse to give him to me, I will tear down this High Mountain.”