The Lord of the Abyss sat silently on his throne, once created long ago from the wreckage of dead civilisations. Had it been created by him...? Had that throne existed before the cities buried in the Abyss...? He remembered little of the Beginning. He remembered only... a branch.
The man frowned at his thoughts, opening his eyes with black whites and bright blue irises, something reminiscent of the starry intertwining galaxies in the universe, making him stare into them without looking away, as if the Archonte had preserved an entire world. I only wish it had been this one. The alien energy of the outside world seemed to have literally descended into the Abyss, and the Lord tilted his head slightly, letting his pale hair fall to the pale, marble-like skin of his face, framing it. It didn't stay that way for long, though. Spots, like supernova flashes, manifested through the skin and gradually filled its entire area with bits of his true essence from his dark beginning, now contrasting with the blond hair. Through his body and in the air many, many eyes began to unfold, shining and staring as if into the void, in fact seeking not only the trapped in this poisonous body and mind space, but looking over the world, watching over him until no one knew it, and his name was forgotten with the death of these very nations, fragments of which remained in his throne. So, who is it that has disturbed his peace here, after so many centuries...?