Beyond the reach of mortal comprehension, farther than the farthest edge of existence where even the light of creation failed to reach, Erebus drifted in the black.
There was no sky here — no stars, no sound, no form of life nor aning. Only the oppressive silence of the void, so absolute that even the concept of ti seed to crumble under its weight.
The only thing that existed here was nothingness, and that which thrived within it.
Erebus floated motionless, shrouded beneath a cloak woven from Nyx’s own essence, threads of primordial shadow laced with the echoes of her being.
The cloak pulsed faintly with her power, like the beating heart of darkness itself.
It was this divine relic that allowed him to trespass into this forbidden place between realities, unseen by the ravenous eyes that watched all things.
Yet even with it, he was terrified to breathe, terrified to even think too loudly.
He knew, with the instinctive dread carved deep into his core, that if he moved, even the faintest tremor, he would cease to exist.
He dared not look around, yet his perception could not help but take in the horror before him.
In the farthest reaches of the void, where infinity folded upon itself, there writhed a thing.
It was vast beyond imagination, a sprawling, amorphous mass of tendrils and eyes, an ocean of mouths whispering in every language that ever existed and countless more that should never have been conceived.
The sheer scale of it mocked reason; it was so imnse that the entire Nordic universe, complete with its galaxies, gods, and planes of existence, hung before it like a re speck of dust.
The creature circled that universe lazily, its endless tendrils brushing against the cosmic barrier with a soundless ripple that made reality itself shudder.
Each touch birthed new stars, snuffed out others, warped space into knots of impossible geotry.
Erebus could barely comprehend it.
His divine essence scread, his mind buckling beneath the sheer wrongness of what he was witnessing.
Even with Nyx’s shroud shielding him, he could feel the madness lurking at the edges of awareness, the whispers of the Outer Chaos calling him to dissolve, to return to the nothing from which all things had co.
And yet, despite its power, despite its unending hunger, the creature did not devour the universe before it.
Erebus did not know why. And he did not want to know why.
His duty was only to observe, to try and use that outer being to wreck havoc in the Norse and beat them to submission.
But now, he just wanted to flee.
He wanted to escape back to the warmth of Nyx’s domain, to the comfort of familiar darkness. But he dared not move. Not yet. Not until it was safe.
Then, after an eternity, or perhaps no ti at all, the colossal being shifted. The endless tendrils retracted. The writhing slowed. And with an indescribable sound that was not sound, it began to leave.
But before departing, it tore free a fragnt of itself, a sliver of its own essence, smaller than a mote of dust, yet so dense with power that even the fabric of the void distorted around it.
The fragnt drifted lazily toward the universe, embedding itself within its outer shell.
Erebus didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified.
And then, it happened.
Countless eyes turned.
Not all at once. Not even intentionally. But for a fraction of a heartbeat, for an instant so brief it could not possibly exist within mortal ti, the gaze of that thing brushed against him.
Every eye upon that monstrous being focused directly upon the place where Erebus hid.
It was not a gaze of curiosity, nor malice, nor even awareness. It was indifference. The way one might glance upon a dust mote floating in a sunbeam.
But that indifference tore through him like a storm.
Erebus’s soul convulsed, every fragnt of his divine essence unraveling under the sheer weight of that impossible attention.
He could feel himself being undone, consciousness shredded, reduced to primal terror.
Every atom of thought burned. Every ounce of existence scread. It was agony beyond the gods, beyond eternity.
It lasted less than a second.
Yet for Erebus, it was eternity itself, a tiless instant stretched into an infinity of tornt.
And then it was gone.
The entity departed, vanishing into the endless beyond where no concept could follow. The void stilled once more.
Erebus floated there in silence, trembling, his divine form barely holding together, the cloak of Nyx flickering weakly around him.
He dared not speak. He dared not think.
Only one thought pulsed weakly in the ruins of his mind, a whisper that felt more like instinct than reason:
If that had truly looked at ... I would never have existed.
Erebus hovered in the abyss, his trembling form still held together only by the threads of Nyx’s power.
His breath ca in shallow gasps, though he did not need to breathe, and his entire being quivered from the aftershock of what had just occurred.
His dark eyes turned once more toward the distant glimr of light before him, the universe that shimred like a fragile sphere of glass amid the void.
It was the Norse realm. Yggdrasil’s branches could be faintly perceived, their luminous roots stretching through dinsions, binding the Nine Realms in a web of divine resonance.
From here, it looked so small, so delicate, like a candle fla flickering in a sea of nothing.
Yet within that fragile sphere burned a cosmos filled with gods, monsters, mortals, and endless stories—all ignorant of how close they were to being erased from existence.
Erebus scowled, his voice a low mutter that was lost in the emptiness. "She really expects to use those things?"
He rubbed his temples and groaned, more out of disbelief than exhaustion. The absurdity of it all made him want to laugh, but fear choked even that impulse.
Nyx, in her infinite calm and terrifying confidence, had spoken of this plan as if it were as simple as stirring shadows or summoning mist.
’Attract the attention of the Outer Things,’ she had said, as though speaking of coaxing a cat with milk.
He wanted to shout. To hurl sothing. To curse her na—though even that he dared not, because she would probably hear him.
"Why, in all the darkness, does she think I can actually do this?" he hissed, smacking his forehead hard enough that the impact rippled through the void around him. "Does she think I’m so kind of cosmic diplomat? Do I look like I can negotiate with things that unmake reality by existing?"
His voice echoed faintly, then was swallowed by the nothingness.
"She calls reliable. She calls capable. I think what she ans is that I’m expendable."
He could almost hear Nyx’s teasing laughter in his mind, smooth and amused, as though she were watching him from afar.
’Erebus, my dear, who else could I trust to step outside existence and not imdiately go mad?’
He clenched his fists. "Anyone else would have been vaporized by now. That’s not how you show trust in my capabilities. That’s how you show how you think so little of my life. Damn."
He looked again toward the Norse universe.
The faint blue glow that surrounded it had dimd, flickering irregularly like a weakening heartbeat.
Through the endless gulf, Erebus could sense the chaos brewing within, faint ripples of distortion, waves of power clashing between gods and sothing far worse.
He didn’t need Nyx’s sight to understand what was happening.
The things had already begun their work. The Outer Ones were probing, testing the boundaries of Yggdrasil’s cosmic structure, looking for cracks.
The first tendrils had already slipped in.
There was no need for him to act. No need for him to risk even another mont out here.
The Norse would bleed soon enough.
He could already imagine it — Asgard afla, the Bifrost shattering, Odin rallying his pantheon in desperation as alien horrors from beyond space tore through their worlds.
It was only a matter of ti before they realized their strength ant nothing against the infinite hunger pressing from beyond.
And when despair took root, when the Aesir and Vanir were reduced to begging for survival, they would listen.
They would accept Nyx’s "proposal" for unity.
"Looks like the plan doesn’t need at all," Erebus murmured, shaking his head. "For once, that’s good news."
He let out a long breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and began to move, slow and deliberate.
The cloak around him shimred faintly, reacting to his will as he turned away from the sight of the dood world-tree and the monstrosities that now gnawed at its edges.
One careful shift, then another.
He felt the weight of countless unseen gazes fade from his back, replaced by the cold, empty calm of the outer void.
The oppressive presence lessened, though his divine essence still quivered with lingering dread.
As the infinite dark began to ripple and fold around him, the first traces of familiar energy touched his senses, the pull of his own universe, the signature of Nyx’s dominion calling him ho.
He cast one last glance over his shoulder, to the pale light of the Norse cosmos now trembling like a dying ember in the endless dark.
A shiver ran through him.
"You shouldn’t have been stubborn." He sighed, "That woman is insane. She will do anything to get what she wants. Even if ant sacrificing an entire universe."
Then, wrapping himself fully in Nyx’s shadow, Erebus slipped through the veil of creation and vanished, leaving behind the silent void and the faint, dreadful laughter of sothing vast moving unseen in the dark.
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