"They could feel the cold as it crept in through the cracks, reaching out for them with its icy, death-dealing fingers; and they would crouch and cower, and try to hide from it, all in vain. It would come, and it would come, a grisly thing, a specter born in the black caverns of terror, a power primeval, cosmic, shadowing the tortures of the lost souls flung out to chaos and destruction. It was cruel, iron-hard, and hour after hour they would cringe in its grasp, alone, alone. There would be no one to hear them if they cried out, there would be no help, no mercy."