Leiruat's breath caught in her throat as the name Ebon Val Borg settled heavily in the air. Even as a remnant spirit, she felt an instinctual reaction—a volatile blend of fear, reverence, and an undeniable loathing.
The mention of that name brought with it memories she didn't even remember forming—fragments of prayers, curses, and whispers in the void.
She swallowed hard. "The God of Malevolence… the one who lives in the fractured planes?"
Lord Skin—the corrupted god who had once been known as Ness, God of Darkness—nodded slowly. There was a strange solemnity to the gesture, as if the mention of Ebon evoked something deeper than dread. A history. A betrayal. A war.
"The very same," he confirmed, his voice carrying an edge that hadn't been there before. "He is the beginning of decay, the one who devours time and truth. My… other self is trapped within his dominion. Duskholm. A prison veiled as a realm. A place where reality folds inward and thoughts become shackles."
