At the hour of the beast,
in the steamy distance,
a silvery tone slithered through the night air.
The ground was torn apart and
from within the fiery chasm
in the fertile earth bled forth
a wailing din.

There, in the nude, perched on a cloud of steam
was Nicholas.
Then, all at once it was as if color
were introduced to canvas
and his voice was present,
in a terrifying baritone hook.

His hand came up slowly from his person
and there it was,
exposed,
the claw.
And the earth was formed.