A being of the end.
An absolute law.
An inevitability carved into the fabric of all worlds.
A force, not merely of power—but of finality.
Not just a god… but a concept made flesh.
Erebil.
The subconscious and conscious personification of evil.
The embodiment of death—not just the act, but the idea.
Entropy. Decay. Silence.
The last whisper after the universe breathes its final breath.
She went by many names across the lore.
A being whose presence alone warped fate itself.
To stare into her eyes was to understand that the story will end, no matter how brightly the plot burns.
That's why—no matter how lenient she acted with me…
No matter how much strange affection or twisted fondness she ever expressed across our interactions…
No matter how many times she offered her guidance with veiled amusement and open admiration…
I could never trust her. Not fully. Not even once.
Because she wasn't just a goddess.
She was…
The Mother of Lies herself.
