“There is an immense reward to be found in that frozen forest... the gift of immortality a direct consequence of the surrender by each of us of our own physical and temporal identities. However apostate we may be in this world, there perforce we become apostles of the prismatic sun."
The Crystal World (1966), J.G. Ballard
In some forgotten grottos and neglected glades of the Mortal Realms, a singular transformation is coming over all organic matter. Living or dead, all blossoming into vitreous spurs of crystal. An inexhaustible tide, physically and psychologically. White static on periphery of conscious thought, beckoning all to return to face absolution. A new horror to add to the many that plague the Mortal Realms. But perhaps the capacity for it has been present all along, since the World’s molten core was placed within the firmament, some antediluvian certainty finally coalescing into being?