It was not a place because it simply was not. Even the use of the word 'was' implied the existence of time, which was untrue, or of any concepts considered universal in, well, reality.

Those few who knew of it called it the Beyond, the not-a-place that could be only reached by passing through the Twilight rift. It was the without of the universe. Because no matter how mighty the Aspects had once been, they could not contain all of infinity when they created their laws and concepts.

But for the sake of simplicity, the word ‘there’ would be acceptable to use, albeit inaccurate.

And it was 'there' that the only island of reason outside of the universe resided. Just the smallest breach in the less-than-nothingness, a place where time mostly existed, along with the other laws of reality.

However, the existence of these foundations did not make the place safe. It was quite the opposite, in fact. If anyone were to find this place, which was fundamentally practically impossible, they would realize that only death awaited anyone who came here alive.

Alive, being the important word.

For it was this bubble somewhere ‘there’ which hosted the last vestiges of greatness. What remained of the first kinslayer. Of the being that nigh all others hated. The one so feared even his Name was forbidden and forgotten, lest even hushed whispers of it allow it to reach through.

For there lay the Betrayer’s corpse. Without a doubt, he was dead, just as all the other Aspects. However, he who held the power over death did not fully abide by its rules. So something lingered, a putrid ball of sheer malice, determined to fulfill the last wish it no longer remembered wishing. A mindless amalgamation of regret.

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And from it, for it was a person no more, came the undead. Too many to count, too many for a mortal mind to even properly visualize. The legions had to be endless because between them and their target was the Beyond. And there was no such thing as a straight path there, even if the way was well-trod. Geometry or time had no meaning there after all. Getting to the Twilight rift could take them a single second or a hundred times longer than the universe existed. It could be a single step away or down a path they would never stop walking.

But that was anticipated. There were enough. Even with near complete attrition, the doorways would always be filled to the brim. Until the first war finally came to a true end.

And ‘then’, despite the impossibility of it, the ‘there’ was found. A single being appeared above the Betrayer’s corpse, yet no undead attacked. It was as if they completely evaded any notice despite standing right there; an observer like no other.

“This world is a _________

and it shall be ________,

for since its very __________

it has been _______”

His words sounded but then a frown appeared on his face. He looked everywhere at the same time and spoke again.

“This is needlessly rude. My words make no difference either way,” he said, not the slightest hint of emotion in his voice or expression. His eyes still shone that strange gray but not-quite-gray.

In response, the endless legions stopped. For just an infinitesimal moment they all stared at him and then they continued as if nothing had happened.

“Do as you like then. We both know that you hold more power than I. But there are other ways my words can be said if they cannot be spoken. So do as you always have. I will remain the observer. But we will see who has the last laugh this time,” he finished speaking. Then he wasn’t ‘there’ anymore.

And the undead marched, forever and ever and ever and never.