Here you were. At her grave, in the dark world. After the destruction of the false gods, after the killing of her wicked spawn, the demiurge, born of her fear and strife, only she was left.

It was cruel how fate dealt this hand, but alas, it was dealt all the same. Her soul placed to rest at her crypt, a darker aspect of her arose, her hate, her violence, her cruelty, and before she raised her blade against you, she spoke.

“If you do not leave, you will die. Run, my love!”

She bellowed.