In a realm beyond all existing universe...
Nyx sat upon a throne forged from the womb of night itself—its arms etched in primordial starlight, its frame shaped from the echoes of forgotten galaxies.
Around her stretched a boundless space of myriad colors, a tapestry of living auroras and shifting nebulas, flowing like liquid dreams in every direction.
This place existed outside time, even outside of fate, a sanctum beyond even the comprehension of most gods.
Before her floated a round table not made of stone or wood, but of something ancient, smooth like obsidian yet flowing with faint constellations across its surface.
Around it hovered other thrones, each emanating a different essence: burning suns, holy scripts, serpent coils, and veils of silk or shadow.
Behind her stood Erebus, the God of Primordial Darkness, her guard, acting as her subordinate.
