While the Olympians worry about the coming Gigantomachy, one primordial was worrying about the fate of the cosmos itself.
Deep withing a forgotten forest, night had fallen.
Not simply over the mortal realm, but across the tapestry of the world's soul.
A silence, ancient and heavy, rolled like mist over mountains, through valleys, across cities where gods no longer walked and mortals prayed more out of habit than faith.
And in this silence, Nyx moved.
She did not fly or walk, for those were crude motions.
She unfolded, slipping through the layered veils of reality like ink through water.
It has been centuries since she last felt it, and she had never rested searching for it, but she had not found a clue.
That entity that slipped through thr cracks of the universe that was formed due to the battle between Hades and Uranus during the Titanomachy.
For centuries, she had sensed nothing but whispers. Murmurs in forgotten tombs, chill winds where none should be.
