Archaic, ancient beyond thought, it seemed--not with the ancientness of things that for uncounted ages have been but wind-driven dust.

Rather was it the ancientness of the golden youth of the world, love lilts of earth younglings, with light of new-born suns drenching them, chorals of young stars mating in space; murmurings of April gods and goddesses.

A languor stole through me.

The rosy lights upon the tripods began to die away, and as they faded the milky globes gleamed forth brighter, ever brighter.

Yolara rose, stretched a hand to Larry, led him through the sextuple groups, and stood face to face with him in the centre of their circle.
The rose-light died; all that immense chamber was black, save for the circle of the glowing spheres.