Many things can look human. It's easy enough to see past the shell he's wearing.

"Yes," I say simply. I am very tired. I've been working my whole life. But I want this final push into nothingness and then - whatever comes. "What do you need? I have generations behind me." An offering of everything: all our work. He is the final piece, the last cog fitted into the gears of the clock to bring the final resounding turn. The power of him, so thinly constrained. I swallow very discreetly, to try and stop the ringing in my ears. I have been around powers, and Powers, since I was a child at my nurse's knee. This is simply the Last.