What Was I Made For?

Alastor stood at the precipice, where reality seemed to fracture and the very essence of Hell itself was laid bare before him. The void gaped-a monstrous maw of oblivion that defied comprehension. It was the thing of whispers in the dark corners of taverns, where even the hardened sinners dared not speak its name with anything but reverence and dread.

It was a chasm so profound, so impossibly vast, that it drank in the light and substance around it, rendering the world pallid and insubstantial by comparison. Here was the end of all ends, the finality reserved for those who perished yet again within the infernal depths. To know of its existence was one matter; to witness its unyielding hunger was an affliction on the soul.