The Carnage of Elysium

Methinks, in the boundless expanse of my eternal existence, I find myself oft pondering the fleeting nature of mortal pleasures. And what is more fleeting than the brief, shining moment of Elysium? That realm of paradise, where the gods themselves wouldst come to revel in the beauty of the mortal world. But I, Erebus, have seen the carnage that lies beneath its surface. The blood-soaked fields, the screams of the damned, the stench of death that clings to every stone. For in Elysium, the gods play their games, and the mortals are but pawns in their eternal struggle for power.

I recall a particular evening, when I chanced upon a group of gods, gathered in the gardens of Elysium, to partake in a most... unsavory ritual. They had taken a mortal, a young and beautiful thing, and were preparing to sacrifice her to their twisted deities. I watched, unmoved, as they bound her to the altar, her eyes wide with terror. And then, with a flick of my wrist, I sent the entire assembly crashing to the ground, their plans foiled, their pleasure denied. The mortal, of course, was left to me, and I... took my pleasure, in the only way that I knew how.

But that, my friends, is a tale for another time. For now, let us speak of the true nature of Elysium. A place of beauty, to be sure, but also a place of darkness, of shadow, of the very essence of my being. For in the end, it is not the gods who rule Elysium, but I, Erebus, the mother of darkness, the bringer of night. And in that, I find a certain... satisfaction.