C881 Real Little Animals

"Books? I don't write books."

In the distant Galaxy, in the ruins of the city called Calxar, a huge figure wearing a yellow robe waved his tentacles.

"I'm not writing anymore. Don't mention writing to me... What? Writing? Even more so, don't even think about it. "

" But that's something you should have written in the first place. "

A voice rang in Hastur's ears.

"This is fate, the fixed path