I am the Void, the young god said. Lifeblood had not yet cooled on his skin, and his eyes, an earthy brown that was swiftly being overtaken by the blackness of divinity, still held the fading spark of mortal hope.

Only moments before, he was a terrified young man struggling to hold on to his life. The struggle was futile, and his blood ran out, replaced by the silken pain of the Void and godhood.

I am the nothing, the young god said as the bloodstains disappeared and pristine skin, never again to be violated by mortal touch, was covered by heavy jacket and boots. Time, once real to him, unraveled at his touch, and he saw the fates and faces of all his Marked. He saw their fear, their rage, heir quiet supplications. He saw their bravery and marveled at their faith in him, their lonely god.

I am the Void, the young god said as a thousand followers were swallowed by the abyss.

I am the nothing, the young god said as darkness fell and he settled down for the long wait.

Time means nothing to the Void.

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