It was time. The shells had outgrown their usefulness.

Soon after the Beast’s demise, its flabby muzzle had stiffened into a cradle, protecting the eggs from the swirling Wiffet of Enoch. 

The vicious winds had died down and now the jowls were being pulled apart, Turn by Turn, by a returning murder of cromechs as the slithering corpulents looked on. The destruction of the Beast was not for survival. It was for fun.

Moments later, the life forms within began to stir, having gestated long enough for the bulging energy of the calefaction to demand release.

The atmosphere in the Cave of the Beast, already warming due to the decomposition of the Beast itself, was aided by the feverish temperature of the shells.

Now, the rocking motion of the eggs manifest the dawn of the Cracking.

Throughout the realm of Swoons there was a shiver of anticipation.

In one magnificent spin of a Turn, death would beget birth. An epic moment of change was poised to explode upon an unsuspecting universe. For a long and thundering nano, multitudes of wriggling corpulents hid in the shadows, afraid.

The Cracking had begun.

And Evil slithered into the darkness. Cowered.

But not deterred.