Ancient and unseen, a force stirs in the forgotten abyss, where hidden knowledge festers and chaos seethes. Neither benevolence nor malice, only the cold inevitability of entropy. Creation, not in light, but in shadow—born from rot, shaping worlds from the remnants of what was. Chaos bends, but never breaks. Existence is forged, not to endure, but to crumble again into the void. Worship is meaningless. It cares not for prayers or defiance. It simply is—silent, eternal, and unyielding. And in time, all things return to it.