The two Cheths lower their heads, facing away from each other, and sigh, floating in the dark amongst thousands of dead faces.
They lean back toward each other, resting their backs and heads on the other. Their hands clasped and their eyes closed, the man speaks.
Cheth: Five thousand years of waiting for her signal, and it came, just as you said it would. But just as it comes, it's already flickering... like a dying lighthouse at the edge of the sea. If you can see or hear any of this... I am so very sorry. You deserved a far better champion than a fool like me.
The woman's hand turns, and clasps the man's a bit more closely. A voice - lacking a godly echo - speaks.
???: There's no need for words like that, Cheth. And this is not the end. Not yet.