The End of Peter's Extinction

When I returned the house was in ruins. The windows shattered and broken. Glass strewn across the floor. There was nothing left of my dad. So if a charred shadow on the wall scorched through the plaster and into the now exposed brick. All that was left of Mrs. Witcher was powdered bone. There are terrible things coming. Things that if we knew of them would leave us weak and trembling with shuddering terror at the knowledge that they are coming for all of us. We all made them and their course is already plotted. You can see them in the numbers if you only learn how to read them. If you know how to reading them. And I read them. They were

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