The waters of the black sea stirred.
A slow humming echoed through the Paradoxical Prison- a tune without melody, drifting on no wind. The surface broke as a figure emerged, slick with shadow and humming louder, as if expecting an audience.
"I know you can't answer me as you feed the Inevitability, Little Bobby," Thauron whispered, voice amused, chin lifting as water slid from his shoulders. "But one has to always be careful when things seem too good to be true... did they really leave this prison all alone? Without a Warden? A prison full of Primarchs and Masters of Existence who absolutely hate Foldless Ones?"
His voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. His presence alone rippled through the coils of paradox.
Thauron rose fully from the obsidian tides, tall and robed in frayed dark silk laced with ruinous markings. The tentacles of the Inevitability slithered lazily behind him, dripping with corruption, as if they too listened to the tune.
He laughed.
