1: Rhoda clings to her necklace, a symbol of her own divine patron.

Mal-Fa’asha (off-screen): You cling to the idea of their warm embrace so childishly

2: Disgust twists the rat’s mouth.

Mal-Fa’asha: But you would not suckle that teat so eagerly if you knew that the only thing waiting for you was her filthy, toothed cunt, eager to swallow you whole!

3: Rhoda keeps her light on the figure. The rat’s form is losing it’s definition and emitting more steam.

Mal-Fa’asha: If you could see the next levels of existence… You, too, would consider no cost too great to cling to this soil…

4: Mal-Fa’asha falls down, to his knees, his body losing more definition.

Mal-Fa’asha: Your dear Professor lives, child… But he has seen what the mortal mind was not designed to see.

All I did was invite him to look… to peer beyond the veil and see the fetid masses that await your soul’s journey…