They put the old gods on display in the desert after the Great Purge, trapped them in glass cages and set them out like ancient relics or antiques for the masses to gawk upon and poke at like children at a zoo.
Spectators brought their image capturing devices and posed in front of the display tanks like tourists, making faces, pretending to be terrified, acting tough.
But Zenda knew better than that. She remembered the old wives tales about pictures stealing souls and knew it was only a matter of time before the clever old gods found a way to trade one prison for another, far weaker restraint.
She shuddered and put her head down in shameful fear before shuffling away.