""Dixon grabbed his head in agony as the vision flooded his mind-the whirling chaotic swirl that gibbered and howled just beyond the gateway: stars, planets and constellations spinning in insanely rapid combinations, light and darkness attacking each other with supernova intensity, lines of force clashing in galaxy-melting conglomerations of sound. He felt his body somehow separate from him . . . and he fought to maintain sanity, to keep his eyes on the chaos that was beginning to spill from the wedge between our world and the infinite worlds of Nyarlathotep.Figgs exulted, blood spilling down his lips and chin, flesh half-chewed spraying from his mouth as he danced in the nuclear fire of the end of the world. In the blinding light he saw a figure moving towards him, a black, wavering line of matter that spun in slow helices through the endless, churning cauldron of white fire.The Worm moved fast - vast chunks of space-time disappeared beneath its approach, atoms screaming as they dissolved, seconds stretching into hours, chains of stars exploding before the path of the Messenger of the Gods. Figgs knelt before it, all spells fleeing his mind, all cantrips and catches meant to imprison the outer god forgotten in the insane joy of the Mask at the approach of its Master.