Chapter 146
Arc 9 - Ch 13: Alioth
Location: The Void at the End of Time
Nobody spoke for the first few minutes of walking after they emerged from the portal. The sky above remained an unsettling purple-gray as they all processed what had just happened. The bunker fight, Tyson killing a Loki, and the decision to trust each other despite every instinct screaming otherwise.
The group had naturally arranged itself with Sylvie close to Tyson's side, Kid Loki trying to match his stride, Loki maintaining a careful distance that suggested neither full commitment nor retreat, with Old Loki at the rear like a shepherd watching his flock. Throg adjusted his position on Tyson's shoulder, the tiny frog-god apparently comfortable enough to settle in for the journey.
The silence wasn't entirely comfortable, but it wasn't hostile either. Each of them carried their own concerns, their own fears about trusting other Lokis.
But they were doing it anyway.
"Damn it!" Old Loki suddenly exclaimed. "Animals, animals! We lie, and we cheat, we cut the throat of every person who trusts us, and for what? Power. Glorious power. Glorious purpose!" He spat the words like they were poison. "We cannot change. We're broken, every version of us."
Old Loki was talking about himself, about Loki variants. In a way Tyson was now a Loki variant. Even so, the question applied to him even before the absorption. Can people fundamentally change, or are they locked into patterns established by their nature and experiences?
Tyson had been changing constantly since arriving in this universe as someone who absorbed the powers and memories of others. But was that growth or just accumulation?
President Loki's memories whispered that change was an illusion, that people just found new ways to express the same fundamental drives.
The thought was unsettling because part of him agreed.
Every kill came easier. Every moral compromise felt more justified. Every absorption made him more powerful and less certain of who he was.
Maybe Old Loki was right. Maybe they were all just broken in different ways, pretending their dysfunction was a strategy.
Or maybe that was just President Loki whispering in his mind.
Kid Loki trudged alongside them, his young face set in an expression far too serious for his apparent age. "Whenever one of us dares try to fix themselves, they're sent here to die."
"That's why I need to get out of here. Nothing can change until the TVA is stopped." Loki complained.
Old Loki turned his gaze toward Tyson, who walked slightly behind with Throg still perched on his shoulder. "And you trust this Thor and his companions?"
Loki hesitated, measuring his words carefully. "Well. Trust?" He gave a small, noncommittal shrug. "I think they're our best chance at getting out of here."
Sylvie, walking close to Tyson, turned back to face the group. "I trust him," she stated firmly, leaving no room for doubt. "I'm a Loki, and I trust Tyson with my life."
The declaration seemed to surprise the other Lokis, particularly Old Loki, whose eyebrows rose nearly to the base of his horned helmet.
Trust wasn't a word that existed in the Loki vocabulary. Not genuinely.
It was a tool, a weapon, a thing you pretended to build while preparing for inevitable betrayal. Every Loki variant in this wasteland had learned that lesson. Trust no one, rely only on yourself, expect everyone to stab you in the back because that's what Lokis did. It was practically their defining characteristic.
Sylvie had lived that philosophy longer and harder than most, surviving alone across apocalypses, trusting no one. For her to stand here and say "I trust him" wasn't just a statement about Tyson. It was a fundamental rejection of what being a Loki meant. She was declaring herself different, transformed by their connection into someone capable of something Lokis supposedly couldn't do.
The other variants stared at her like she'd spontaneously grown a second head.
They understood what she'd admitted to in a way non-Lokis couldn't. She'd made herself vulnerable. Given someone power over her. Broken the cardinal rule of their existence.
And she'd done it publicly, in front of other Lokis who could use that information against her.
As the shock wore off, Loki quickened his pace to walk alongside Tyson and Sylvie. "How did the TVA prune you?"
"They didn't. We made it in front of the Time Keepers," Tyson continued, "defeated all the Minutemen, had Judge Renslayer on her knees."
This statement caused all the Lokis to stop in their tracks, staring at Tyson and Sylvie with expressions ranging from disbelief to suspicion. The Time Variance Authority didn't just let people walk away. That was the entire point of the organization. They controlled the timeline, pruned variants who deviated from the Sacred Timeline, sending them to the Void to be consumed by Alioth. Everyone here knew that. You didn't beat the TVA. You didn't escape their judgment. You certainly didn't get close enough to the Time Keepers themselves to pose any real threat. The TVA was absolute, inevitable, omnipotent within their domain. For someone to claim they'd not only reached the Time Keepers but had defeated Minutemen and captured a judge...
If the TVA could be fought, could be challenged, could be beaten, then maybe the Sacred Timeline wasn't so sacred after all. Maybe the predestined path they'd all been told to follow wasn't actually inevitable.
Maybe the void wasn't the end.
"So what happened?" Loki finally asked, voicing the question on all their minds.
Sylvie's expression darkened. The memory clearly still angered her; the moment when everything she'd fought for, everything she'd risked, had turned out to be based on a lie. "The Time Keepers, the three beings who supposedly created the Sacred Timeline, who judged every variant, who decided which realities deserved to exist, they were fake. Animatronic puppets on a stage, going through motions programmed into them, speaking pre-recorded lines."
The Lokis took this in with varying degrees of shock. Old Loki's eyes widened. Kid Loki's mouth fell open. Loki himself looked like the rug had been pulled out from under him and he had no idea what direction to turn in next. If the Time Keepers were fake, then someone else was actually running the TVA. Someone who'd built an elaborate mythology around nonexistent gods to give their authority weight. Someone who'd convinced an entire organization to prune timelines, to erase lives, to maintain a Sacred Timeline based on what was apparently an enormous lie.
"So how'd you end up here?"
"We pruned ourselves to come retrieve you," Tyson said matter-of-factly, as if deliberately pruning oneself into a void at the end of time was a perfectly reasonable course of action.
Loki looked between Tyson and Sylvie, his expression a mixture of disbelief and newfound respect. "How did you intend to do that?"
In response, Tyson reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device.
"A Temp-Pad," Old Loki breathed.
Old Loki looked between Loki and Sylvie. "Best chance of getting out of here indeed. Perhaps your trust wasn't unfounded."
"What are we waiting for? We go back to the TVA, we have everything we need."
The eagerness in Kid Loki's own voice embarrassed him even as the words left his mouth. He sounded like a child, which, fine, he technically was, but he'd worked hard to project more maturity, more cynical awareness. But the possibility of actually escaping the Void, of maybe finding redemption for killing Thor, of being part of something larger than just survival, made him forget to maintain his carefully constructed persona. The other Lokis were looking at him now, probably judging his lack of composure, recognizing his youth and inexperience. Kid Loki forced himself to dial back the enthusiasm, to remember that showing too much hope made you vulnerable. Hope was a weakness enemies exploited. Except this Thor didn't seem like the kind of person who'd exploit it. Neither did Lady Loki, really.
"What about Alligator Loki?" Old Loki's gaze shifted to Frog-Thor suspiciously. Throg remained perched on Tyson's shoulder. The tiny amphibian god returned the stare, his miniature Mjolnir gripped tightly in one webbed hand.
Kid Loki waved dismissively. "Leave him. He's too angry and grumpy anyway."
Tyson chuckled and mumbled, "Gators are ornery because they got all them teeth and no toothbrush."
His joke was met with blank stares from the assembled Lokis. Throg gave a small croak that might have been laughter, but the others clearly didn't understand the reference.
He shook his head in disappointment, more because his joke fell flat than what he had to say. "We could go back," he said, getting them back on track, "or we could pull back the curtain and see who's pulling the strings. See who created the TVA."
This suggestion caught everyone's attention. Even Old Loki, who had lived countless years in the Void, seemed intrigued by the possibility.
"How?" Loki asked skeptically.
Tyson turned, gesturing toward the horizon where a massive, cloud-like entity moved in the distance, purple energy crackling within its swirling mass. The creature consumed everything in its path.
"Alioth isn't just the garbage disposal," Tyson said, his eyes fixed on the approaching tempest. "It's the guard dog."
Old Loki sighed. "Okay, okay. We'll help you. But approaching Alioth is a death sentence. We'll get you to it, but that's as far as we go." He turned to Tyson. "What's your plan, then?"
"The person we're after is beyond The Void at the end of time," Tyson replied, his gaze fixed on the swirling mass of purple energy that was Alioth.
"Okay, so, um, how do we get past the guard dog?" Kid Loki asked.
Loki cleared his throat, adopting a confident tone though he was improvising a plan. "Alioth is like any animal. He'll go after the big meal first. And while he's busy with that, we can sneak around the back and..." He paused, realizing the gap in his strategy. "Well, we haven't decided how we're going to kill it, but..."
"Come again? Kill it?" Sylvie interrupted, her expression incredulous.
"Yes, we're gonna kill Alioth," Loki stated as if it were the most obvious solution.
Sylvie shook her head, "I'm gonna enchant it," she declared firmly.
Loki laughed dismissively.
"No, she's right," Tyson interjected. "We're going to enchant it."
The group continued walking across the barren landscape, debris from countless pruned timelines scattered around them. Sylvie walked close enough to Tyson that their shoulders occasionally brushed, a casual intimacy that neither of them commented on but both clearly valued. Small touches, her hand briefly on his arm when making a point, his fingers grazing hers as they navigated debris, the way they unconsciously adjusted their stride to stay in sync.
Loki glanced between them with a curious expression. "So, before we go after Alioth, are you two going to have your romantic moment?"
"Is that what you're sensing between us? Romantic tension?" Sylvie asked.
"Not as thick as I might expect after pruning each other, but some, yes," Loki replied.
"It's because we've already settled it," Sylvie stated matter-of-factly.
Loki raised an eyebrow. "Settled it? Like, discussed and decided that you're good friends and allies?"
The look that passed between Tyson and Sylvie held entire conversations.
Loki saw it, recognized it; the shorthand of people who'd been intimate, who'd learned each other's tells and rhythms, who could communicate complex ideas through glances alone. Whatever had happened between them, it had fundamentally shifted their relationship from antagonists to people who'd chosen each other. The smile at the corner of Sylvie's mouth, the warmth in Tyson's eyes, the comfortable silence that didn't need filling, these were markers of genuine connection, not just cooperation. Loki had lived long enough to recognize the difference. He'd watched Thor and Jane, had observed countless mortal relationships, and had even experienced brief connections himself before inevitably sabotaging them.
This was real.
"You didn't..." Loki's eyes widened as realization dawned. "What the hell happened in that store after I got pruned?"
"Magic," Sylvie replied with a straight face.
Tyson couldn't hold in his laughter.
Loki walked in silence, thinking thoughts he'd rather not examine too closely. Sylvie, a version of himself, had fallen for Tyson. Not just allied with him. Not just trusted him in some temporary strategic arrangement. Fallen for him. The kind of connection that made people prune themselves into oblivion just to stay together. The kind that showed in every casual touch and every shared glance.
What did that say about Tyson?
The man had been an obstacle from the beginning. Back on the Rainbow Bridge, when he'd arrived as Midgard's representative, Loki had dismissed him as another mortal playing at importance. Then, Tyson had ambushed him. Failed, technically, but the attempt itself had been noteworthy. Most mortals wouldn't have dared. Later, on Midgard, Tyson had actually succeeded. Valravn, Odin had deemed him. A pretentious title for someone who'd barely understood their world. But he'd prevented Loki from establishing his rightful rule over Midgard. The humiliation of that defeat still stung. Being outmaneuvered by someone he'd initially considered beneath notice.
Except Tyson had never been beneath notice, had he?
Loki watched the man now, walking ahead with Sylvie close beside him. He moved with confidence, not the bravado of someone pretending strength but the quiet certainty of someone who'd been tested and survived. He'd killed President Loki without hesitation. Sylvie saw something in him worth loving. Sylvie, a version of himself who'd survived alone across apocalypses. Who'd brought the fight to the TVA and had been largely successful. She'd chosen Tyson.
What did that say about Loki himself?
If a version of himself could fall for this man, did that mean Loki harbored similar potential? The thought was absurd. Ridiculous. He'd spent their entire acquaintance viewing Tyson as an enemy, an obstacle, someone to outmaneuver and defeat.
But enemies could become allies. Loki knew that better than most.
In the TVA he'd seen his fate. Thor had been his enemy. Then his brother. Then his enemy again. Then... complicated. Then he'd died deceiving, but in his own way, fighting beside Thor. Tyson had opposed him twice now. Succeeded most recently. And instead of holding his failures against him, instead of hating him for attacking his home, he was being treated like someone worth recruiting rather than someone to destroy. That was unusual. Tyson should want to punish him, imprison him, make him pay for his schemes. But the Valravn had just moved forward, focused on the larger threat, the bigger picture.
Loki glanced at Sylvie again, saw the way she leaned slightly toward Tyson as they walked, the unconscious gravitation of someone who'd found their center.
He'd never seen himself look at anyone that way.
They reached the crest of a hill, providing them with a clear view of Alioth in the distance. The creature moved like a storm cloud with purpose, consuming everything in its path with flashes of purple energy.
Old Loki stopped. "This is where we part ways." Loki looked at him curiously. "This is my home," Old Loki explained, gesturing to the Void around them. "You'll need a distraction to get past the guard dog. The bigger meal, so to speak."
Loki glanced at Kid Loki, who shifted uncomfortably, uncertainty written across his young face.
"I don't know if you all know how it was supposed to end," Tyson said, his voice solemn, "but they do." He nodded toward Old Loki and Loki.
"You aren't meant to betray your brother. You're meant to fight beside him."
Kid Loki's entire posture changed. The cynical set to his young shoulders, the defensive way he'd been carrying himself, the assumption that everyone would eventually abandon or betray him, it all softened, replaced by desperate hope. He was still a child, despite everything, despite the countless years in the Void. Still young enough to want to believe that the story could end differently, that being Loki didn't have to mean being the god of Outcasts, that maybe he could be the hero instead of the villain.
Tyson's words offered him something more precious than power or freedom from the void. The possibility of redemption. Of being valued, wanted, part of something larger than his own survival. The other Lokis had treated him like a useful asset, someone whose powers made him worth keeping around. But Tyson was offering mentorship, brotherhood, a place in an actual team. Kid Loki's hands trembled slightly as he processed what that meant. He'd killed Thor in his timeline, the ultimate betrayal, the unforgivable sin that had gotten him pruned and exiled here. For someone connected to Thor, or perhaps a Thor himself, to look at him and still see potential for heroism rather than just another treacherous Loki... it was almost too much to hope for. But he was going to grab onto it anyway, clutch it close, and try desperately not to prove everyone right when they said Lokis couldn't change.
He looked up at Tyson with a spark of hope in his eyes. "I... I want to fight beside you, Thor."
Tyson smiled and put his hand on Kid Loki's shoulder. "I'm not Thor, not really, but when we get through this, you'll get to meet him."
Old Loki turned to walk away, silhouetted against the strange sky of the Void.
"Wait," Tyson called after him.
Old Loki paused, looking back over his shoulder. "You'll be needing that distraction sooner than later."
Old Loki's speech about Lokis being incapable of change still echoed in Tyson's mind, the cynical certainty that their nature was fixed, immutable, broken beyond repair. But standing here, watching these variants, Tyson saw evidence contradicting that worldview. Change wasn't about becoming a different person. It was about choosing how to act, despite your nature. Sylvie was still suspicious, but she'd chosen to trust him. Loki was still manipulative and self-interested, but he was choosing to cooperate. Kid Loki was still carrying the weight of killing his Thor, but he was choosing to hope for redemption rather than accepting damnation.
And as for Tyson himself...
Maybe Old Loki was right that they were all fundamentally broken. But broken didn't mean beyond repair. It just meant the cracks were visible, that you had to work harder to hold yourself together. The question wasn't whether Lokis could change, it was whether they'd choose to, moment by moment, even when their instincts screamed at them to revert to familiar patterns. He wasn't naive enough to think one moment of cooperation erased centuries of betrayal. But it was a start.
Tyson stripped off his shirt, revealing his muscular torso, with Mjolnir tucked in his belt's waistband. He held out his hand to Old Loki. "Here, Lokis always seem to work against each other, but that changes now. We can all work together, share our strengths."
Sylvie didn't hesitate.
While the male Lokis were still digesting Tyson's offer, she simply stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him from behind. The gesture was intimate. She was making herself vulnerable in front of the other variants, showing them exactly how much she trusted Tyson, claiming him publicly as hers. Her cheek pressed against his bare shoulder blade, her breath warm against his skin.
The hug wasn't sexual, though there was certainly attraction between them. It was comfort, connection, the physical manifestation of what they'd built together. Here she was, broadcasting to everyone watching that she'd found someone worth breaking all her rules for. This was what they'd discovered on Lamentis. Not just physical attraction, though that had been part of it, but the realization that they didn't have to carry everything alone anymore. That partnership was possible even for people whose entire existence had taught them that closeness meant betrayal.
Old Loki hesitated for a moment before taking Tyson's hand. Kid Loki placed his hand on Tyson's forearm.
Loki stood apart, watching the scene unfold with skepticism. Finally, after a moment of internal debate, he stepped forward and took Tyson's other hand.
A roar split the air as Alioth descended from the sky. The creature sensed their presence, turning toward them with malevolent purpose.
Tyson released the hands he held, and green magic began streaming from him. The energy flowed outward, coalescing and taking shape in the distance.
A replica of Asgard formed on the horizon, its golden spires and rainbow bridge shimmering with an authenticity that was breathtaking. With the combined strength of five Lokis channeled through Tyson, the illusion was solid and indistinguishable from the real thing.
Alioth paused, its attention diverted by the sudden appearance of the massive structure. The creature turned toward the larger meal, moving away from the group.
"I'll maintain it," Old Loki declared, his hands glowing green as he focused on sustaining the illusion of Asgard in the distance. "Go."
Tyson nodded and reached out toward the metal debris nearby. The scattered remnants of pruned timelines responded to his will, rising and forming a platform under their feet.
Everyone stepped onto the floating metal surface except Old Loki, whose hands continued to glow green, maintaining the Asgard illusion, drawing Alioth's attention.
Tyson sped their platform toward Alioth's back. Wind whipped past them as they accelerated, making Sylvie's hair stream behind her. Kid Loki crouched low, one hand gripping the edge of the platform, while Loki stood tall beside Tyson.
When they reached the monster, it was just digging into the phantom version of Asgard. Old Loki was holding the illusion of the golden spires of the false Asgard as Alioth's cloudy form descended upon it. Tyson continued adding his strength to the illusion, making it manageable for the sorcerer. The creature's massive form rippled with purple energy as it tried to consume the illusion, completely oblivious to the small group approaching from behind.
The closer they got, the more Tyson's spider-sense screamed at him to turn around, to flee, to get as far from this being as possible.
This thing wasn't just dangerous. It was fundamentally antithetical to existence. It was the end of things made manifest, entropy given form and purpose.
The sensation from Alioth...
Tyson wondered if the creature was an aspect of Death. He'd felt her presence, understood the weight of her gaze. Alioth carried that same fundamental wrongness, that same sense of finality. But where Death was purposeful in her inevitability, Alioth was mindless hunger that didn't discriminate, didn't judge, just consumed.
If this thing truly belonged to Death, then they were about to grab the leash of something far beyond their understanding. The plan had sounded reasonable when discussed from a distance. Now, hovering mere feet from the creature's swirling mass, it felt insane.
But turning back wasn't an option. Forward was the only direction that mattered.
So Tyson pushed down the fear, ignored the warnings screaming through every nerve, and put his faith into his metaknowledge that things would be okay.
The platform drew closer to Alioth's swirling mass, purple energy crackling across its surface. Up close, the creature was even more massive than it had appeared from a distance. Its form shifted constantly, never quite solid, never quite gaseous.
"Get us as close as you can," Sylvie instructed, her hands already glowing green.
Tyson guided the platform forward, fighting against the pull of Alioth's consumption. The creature's presence pressed against his mind, trying to erase him, to unmake him. His spider-sense screamed warnings that he couldn't afford to heed. Hovering just within reach of Alioth's swirling form, the creature's body was like a storm cloud made solid, yet ethereal at the same time.
"Now!" Sylvie shouted, reaching out, her fingers stretching toward the roiling darkness.
Tyson, too, reached out and grabbed one of Alioth's shadowy wisps. Sylvie did the same. Her eyes met Tyson's briefly. Loki hesitated for just a moment before extending his hand. His fingers trembled slightly as they made contact with the creature's form. Kid Loki followed suit.
The moment Tyson's fingers closed around the shadowy wisp, he understood why the others hesitated.
Alioth wasn't just a storm cloud with teeth.
The consciousness behind those red eyes had existed for eons, had consumed entire timelines, had witnessed the birth and death of countless realities. Touching it was like pressing your hand against the event horizon of a black hole, feeling the immense gravitational pull of something so massive that your own existence became insignificant by comparison.
The creature's awareness touched his mind.
Vast. Incomprehensible. Utterly alien to anything he'd encountered before.
This wasn't a person whose thoughts he could understand, a variant whose memories would make sense. This was something fundamental to the structure of the Void itself, maybe the multiverse. A cosmic janitor designed to erase mistakes in the timeline.
And Tyson was trying to enchant it.
The audacity of that attempt hit him all at once.
They were insects trying to collar a god.
The only reason it was even theoretically possible was that Alioth, for all its power, wasn't designed to resist magical mental manipulation. It had probably never encountered anyone stupid enough to try.
"I don't know enchantment," Loki said.
Kid Loki nodded in agreement. "Neither do I."
Throg croaked from Tyson's shoulder, the sound somehow encouraging despite its simplicity. The tiny god raised his miniature Mjolnir as if offering support.
"We're all the same," Sylvie said. Green energy began to flow from her fingertips, seeping into Alioth's form. "You can do it."
Tyson held back, channeling only a fraction of the power he now possessed. The others struggled with their connection to the creature, each trying to find within themselves the ability to enchant.
Kid Loki's face scrunched in concentration. Loki wasn't faring much better. Sylvie maintained her focus, the green energy from her hand steadily flowing into Alioth.
"Focus on what you want it to do," Sylvie instructed. "See it in your mind. Make it real."
Tyson watched the others struggle. The creature fought the enchantment like an animal resisting a leash.
The problem was their approach.
Loki and Kid Loki were trying to force their will onto Alioth, treating it like an object to be controlled. That wouldn't work. Fighting Alioth's resistance was like trying to redirect a hurricane with your bare hands.
The creature's will pressed against the enchantment with inexorable force. It consumed. That's what it did, what it was designed to do, what it had done forever.
The mental pressure built against Tyson's consciousness, threatening to overwhelm him. President Loki's knowledge tried to help, offering techniques for mental manipulation refined through centuries of practice. But even those sophisticated methods weren't designed for something this alien, this vast. The trick was accepting that you couldn't overpower Alioth through force of will. You had to work with its nature, redirect it rather than reverse it. Show it a better target, a more interesting consumption, a reason to choose one path over another.
Not command, but suggestion.
Not domination, but negotiation.
The creature's intelligence was simple in structure but immense in scale. Tyson had enough experience using illusions to influence others to understand the principle.
You didn't control a mind, you guided it. Showed it what you wanted and made the creature believe the choice was its own.
Seconds stretched like hours as they maintained contact with the cosmic entity. Alioth continued to consume the illusion of Asgard, seemingly unaware of their attempt to control it.
Then, something changed.
The creature's resistance wavered. A faint green glow began to emanate from Kid Loki's hand, tentative at first, then growing stronger. The boy's eyes widened in surprise as the magic flowed from him into the creature.
"I'm doing it!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking with excitement.
The same green energy began to stream from Loki's hand, merging with Sylvie's and Kid Loki's magic. His surprise gave way to a smile of genuine wonder.
"It's working."
Tyson finally released his full power. Green energy poured from his hand into Alioth. The combined force of their enchantment surged through the creature like a wave, transforming it from within. Alioth's massive form shuddered, the purple energy within it flickering as the enchantment took hold. The creature paused in its consumption of the false Asgard, its attention redirected by the magic flowing through it.
Then came the transformation.
Red eyes, glowing like embers in the center of its stormy form, began to shift. The crimson glow faded, replaced by brilliant emerald green that spread throughout the creature's body. The hue of the beast shifted entirely, purple giving way to green as the enchantment claimed it completely.
Throg croaked in approval, jumping up and down on Tyson's shoulder.
Sylvie released her hold first, stepping back on the platform with satisfaction on her face.
"We did it."
Loki and Kid Loki followed suit, both staring at their hands in wonder before looking up at the transformed Alioth. The creature hovered before them, no longer the mindless consumer of realities but a sentinel awaiting command.
Tyson was last, still holding onto his connection.
"What now?" Kid Loki asked as he stared at the transformed entity before them.
"Now we see what's beyond," Tyson replied.
He shifted his mental approach, easing back the force of his magic and instead projecting images.
The path opening, Alioth moving aside willingly.
Not commands.
Suggestions.
Possibilities.
As if responding to his words, Alioth began to move. The creature's massive form shifted, no longer a solid wall of storm clouds. Its green-tinged body stretched and expanded, then began to part down the middle like a curtain drawn aside.
The void beyond Alioth was different, darker.
A structure began to take shape in the distance.
A castle materialized through the gap, set against the backdrop of nothingness. The structure was massive.
It stood alone.
The Citadel at the End of Time.