One by one, the seers succumbed. Their necks and shoulders bulged. Their cheeks sprouted hair. Horns broke through the skin of their scalps. Their eyes shone with a terrible knowledge fumbled by thickened tongues. Their hands and feet fused to stumps. It was easier to walk on four legs. The plains darkened with their coarse hides. The air boiled with the sound of grazing. With teeth and hooves, they incised the land with the only letter remaining in their alphabet, while the wind dispersed their last syllables: Nina Pinta Santa Maria Nina Pinta Santa Maria.

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