Jacobson's Warning

You know not what you have done. The terrors in the night that I have held at bay are coming, they're rising up from the floorboards and from the cold earth in the graveyards and they're walking the streets and the foolish, simple kine will lock their doors and say their prayers and they'll be passed over, not because their god is listening, but because they are beneath the notice of these horrors.
The true horror is not that which feeds on life, but that which feeds on death - creatures so monstrous that they can only be satisfied by the destruction of other monsters, creatures that will glut on tainted blood and roll in the viscera of their own kind, creatures that will drink the sea and extinguish the sun and gorge themselves on grave-earth until they explode and their blood drowns the world anew. I have held them at bay, but now in the dull red light they will arise, and they will not be stopped.
But you won't get to meet them, the beasts so monstrous and so beautiful that you valiantly prepare for. Your eyes fixed on the horizon, you will completely miss the snares at your feet, the pitfalls present in your night-to-night unlife. There will be no grand architect of your demise, no high destiny for you to fulfill as you are consumed whole or flayed asunder. You will fall by the wayside to petty in-fighting as you jockey to be the first on the chopping block, and your bodies will have blown away on the wind long before your progenitors come to claim what is theirs by right.
You know not what you have done, but I will watch as it accelerates to meet you, and I will go back to his embrace willingly, knowing that you doomed yourselves long before.

After all, to rule in blood is to rule in truth.