This is not apocalypse. This is our beginning, Nicholas. The end of death itself. Life eternal.
None of this is new, Nicholas. We are just visitors. Our dead, and they are our dead, they have always walked amongst us. The only difference is now we can see them.
Is that what we call these creatures who can’t control their nature, their hunger? And what do we call those who destroy them? The ones who kill without thinking. Which is the monster?