Shadow walked through the white mist, feeling his self being slowly eroded and erased.
Nothingness was truly fearsome. All beings were equal in front of it — the gods, the people… even the dreadful creatures of the Void. Shadow did not know for sure, but he suspected that even the Flame itself was not immune to the subtle, insidious tides of nothingness.
He knew only one force that was indifferent to nothing…
It was fate.
Fate cared not for the white mist, just as it did not care to be burned by the Flame or tainted by the Void. So, Shadow assumed that beings with a strong fate were better suited to endure the eroding influence of the white mist.
There weren't many beings like that, though. Those who did exist all possessed a True Name, which was both an expression of their fate and a unique descriptor that distinguished them as individuals in its great tapestry.
