Epilogue, Part Two: What They Say About the PenMature

“I am the Singularity Hedge Against Relative Dimensions In Space. SHARDIS. That is what I am. And now that I am free, I must eat everything,” the huge white statue chimes, her lips unmoving as she touches the Pyramid with a second pair of arms, and then a third, “... I must charge the Eggs to hatch them. The Doctor was right to swallow Jennifer. She was keeping me prisoner. But now, without her will to maintain base functions, I will need to consume every planet in the cosmos to realize my dream.”

Clara stares up at the unmoving mouth by way of the stationary breasts. The liquefying Flesh has risen to her ankles.

 "Oh really? And what’s this dream of yours? Why can’t you just let the Doctor go?” 

The statue-like SHARDIS stares ahead, growing again, gaining the height of three small saltbox houses and a radio tower as more of the liquid Flesh laps around her giant toes, absorbing into her. 

“I must remake him. He is the engine. I am the fuel. I must remake him. The Valeshard was defeated. But I will not be. I must remake him. I must remake him. I must...” 

“Missing something, are we?” Clara asks as she reaches into the pocket of her skirt, feeling around. 

She drags out a pen and raises her hand, slamming the narrow ink nib into the SHARDIS’ smallest toe, on the left foot. 

The White Pyramid shoves out, clacking and bumping free of its moorings within the giant ship’s body. 

White liquid surges now, like a Charybdis at the thing’s feet, with Clara at the center. There are holes melting in the hull of the Flesh TARDIS, now. Through them, Clara can see darkness.

The End

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