Nerath, Before the Fall.
The Chained God spoke, and the Progenitor whispered its reply.
“I will be free,” the Chained God said, “and all will perish.”
“Perish,” the Progenitor whispered, an echo in the desolate infinity of the Chained God’s prison.
The Chained God formed a hand of darkness and bone and stretched a finger toward the glowing liquid. Its light turned the darkness of his substance to blood.
“They will drown in blood,” he said.
“Blood,” whispered the Progenitor.
His finger touched the liquid surface and it sprang to life at his touch, coiling around the bone and joining with his shadow, hungry for his substance.
Once again the Chained God saw what it was and what it had been. He saw the world crumbling as it consumed everything, leaving behind only the void that was his prison.
“So it shall be,” he said, his voice the only sound in the whole of the void.
“All will perish,” the Progenitor whispered.