The Scythe Of Darkness

The shadows lunged suddenly, tendrils writhing toward me. My flames flared in response, clashing violently against the void's encroachment.

"You know," I said, stepping forward despite the weight of the darkness pressing against me. "All this talk of voids and Dukes is cute, but if you're gonna kill me, maybe stop with the commentary and do something."

The Herald roared, its voice a cacophony of layered tones. "You will fear the void, godling. You will join the countless embers I have extinguished."

The Herald loomed in the flickering gloom, its form a swirling mass of roiling shadows with crimson eyes that seemed to pierce into my soul. Its jagged, grinning maw split wider, revealing rows of teeth that shimmered with liquid darkness. The scythe it held radiated malevolence—a weapon forged not from metal, but pure, pulsating void. Embedded within its blade were gleaming gems that flickered faintly, as if whispering forgotten screams.