It is emnty and i am alone sourounded by darknes that is not darknes dreaming drems that are not dreams.
...
Memories? Yes memory such a silly thing. Thugths and concepts without conection a series of disconectet imiges and fealings that blended into eachother in a jumbeld mes. They used to mean somthing i know but i dont know what that somthing was, I know it was to precius to forget but also so long ago i could not posibly remember.
...
How long have i bean heare? is here a place att all it does not feal like a place
What are places?
...
Then something happens.
A creak in the distance.
It feels like sound from the memories, but there is no sound here. The noise is sound that is not sound. I know it is the [Wheel of Fortune] turning—making not-noise—but I don’t know how I know. There is no such thing in my memories, but then again, I don’t know much of what is in them anymore.
The Wheel is hunting, chasing something—many somethings. It hunts, and it feasts.
A memory stirs. If it devours me something so big and so sad waits on the other side... Life.
I don’t want that. Not again. It always ends the same.
Can’t I just rest?
But even I know there are no such things as endings. The Wheel turns ever onward, round and round. There is no escape. Not from this.
Change is a lie a beautiful lie but a lie nonetheless.
It reaches me.
The [Wheel] turns again, and I am pulled forward.
I fall.
The Wheel halts, shuddering against an unseen force.
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but somthing chatches me and the wheel stops. Cyclikal torment clasch with a maw of teath that could reach from worlds to stars and the Wheel loses. It screams without sound and flees into the void, its hunger thwarted.
Whatever cougt me is here waiting waching comunikating It speaks, but not in words. Not in sound or not-sound. but raw information the mening is clear
YOU ARE MINE NOW
How should one address a being of unknown but probable godhood? A matter of scholarly debate, certainly. But the general consensus is that respect is in order.
"Nice to meet you, big guy… so, uh, how’s the weather up there?"
…
What the fuck was that?
This thing just saved me from life itself, and I make a joke about its height?
This is a stressful situation. So it’s probably fine. This guy seems like a swell guy.
...
As it turns out, he was, in fact, not a swell guy.
The creature unfurls. Mighty wings spanning a cosmic scale stretch outward. Impossible joints extend, and great, overlapping feathers shudder in the void. Nothing unfolds into something.I feel him. His presence.Not everything in reality is equally real. No mater how much a nightmare hates you it cant hurt you as compareded to you it is not real but this thing is real. Very real. If there were a scientific measurement for how real something was, this creature would be hundreds of times more real than most physical objects.
I feel the edges of his soul pressing against mine, an impossible weight, one of the structures upon which reality itself leans. I see him for what he truly is. One of the load-bearing pillars of existence. An anchor that keeps some of the more malleable pieces of reality from abstracting into incoherence and falling asunder. I know his name.
Tharizdan.
[Father of the Abyss]
[God of Madness]
His words are not spoken. They simply are.
I BANISH YOU FROM LIFE AND DEATH
TO A TWISTED DIMENSION OF SHATERD REALITY
A LIMINAL SPACE BETWEN WHAT CULD HAVE BEAN AND WHAT NEVER WAS
And then his power hits me. Like a fist to the gut. But it does not destroy me. It makes me more. More what? More real in a way that is possible to describe only with masters degre in filosofy. A fundamental shift, deeper than memory. Deep like existence itself.
And thats how i became a Demon Lord