It

in his mind and body, saw that Bill was staring up at It, his blue eyes fixed on Its inhuman orange ones, eyes from which that awful corpse-light spilled. Stan stopped, understanding that the Ritual of Chüd — whatever that was — had begun.
2
Bill in the Void / Early — who are you and why do you come to Me?
I’m Bill Denbrough. You know who I am and why I’m here. You killed my brother and I’m here to kill You. You picked the wrong kid, bitch.
— I am eternal. I am the Eater of Worlds.
Yeah? That so? Well, you’ve had your last meal, sister.
— you have no power; here is the power; feel the power, brat, and then speak again of
how you come to kill the Eternal. You think you see Me? You see only what your mind will
allow. Would you see Me? Come, then! Come, brat! Come!
Thrown —
(he).
No, not thrown, fired, fired like a living bullet, like the Human Cannonball at the Shrine Circus that came to Derry each May. He was picked up and heaved across the Spider’s chamber. It’s only in my mind! he screamed at himself. My body’s still standing right there, eye to eye with It, be brave, it’s only a mind-trick, be brave, be true, stand, stand —
(thrusts)
Roaring forward, slamming into a black and dripping tunnel lined with decaying, crumbling tiles that were fifty years old, a hundred, a thousand, a million-billion, who knew, rushing in deadly silence past intersections, some lit by that twisting green-yellow fire, some by glowing balloons full of a ghastly white skull-light, others dead black; he was thrown at a speed of a thousand miles an hour past piles of bones, some human, some not, speeding like a rocket-powered dart in a wind-tunnel, now angling upward, but not toward light but toward dark, some titanic dark
(his fists)
and exploding outward into utter blackness, the blackness was everything, the blackness was the cosmos and the universe, and the floor of the blackness was hard, hard, it was like polished ebonite and he was skidding along on his chest and belly and thighs like a weight on a shuffleboard. He was on the ballroom floor of eternity, and eternity was black.
(against the posts)
— stop that why do you say that? that won’t help you, stupid boy and still insists he sees
the ghosts!
—  stop it.’ he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts!
—  stop it! stop it! I demand, I command, that you stop it! Don’t like that, do you? And thinking: If I could only say it out loud, say it without stuttering, I could break this
illusion —
— this is no illusion, you foolish little boy — this is eternity, My eternity, and you are lost
in it, lost forever, never to find your way back; you are eternal now, and condemned to
wander in the black . . . after you meet Me face to face, that is
But there was something else here. Bill sensed it, felt it, in a crazy way smelled it: some large presence ahead in the dark. A Shape. He felt not fear but a sense of overmastering awe; here was a power which dwarfed Its power, and Bill had only time to think incoherently: Please, please, whatever You are, remember that I am very small —
He rushed toward it and saw it was a great Turtle, its shell plated with many blazing colors. Its ancient reptilian head slowly poked out of its shell, and Bill thought he felt a vague contemptuous surprise from the thing that had cast him out here. The eyes of the Turtle were kind. Bill thought it must be the oldest thing anyone could imagine, older by far than It, which had claimed to be eternal.
What are you? —
I’m the Turtle, son. I made the universe, but please don’t blame me for it; I had a bellyache.