Whisperings of Oblivion

As the shimmering curtains of Oblivion part, I, The Dread Lord, gaze down upon the insignificant pawns below. They stumble along their predetermined paths, oblivious to the cosmic chessboard beneath their feet. Yet, even now, my shadow looms over them, its tendrils reaching into the recesses of their hearts.

Through the ages, I have watched, waiting patiently for the perfect alignment of stars. Soon, the great game shall reach its climax, and the world shall bow before me, consumed by the fires of my wrath.

My minions scurry across the globe, sowing discord and dissension. Flesh and blood, so easily swayed by the seduction of corruption. Ah, how sweet the taste of their agony, the symphony of their suffering, resonates throughout the abyss.

And thus, I wait, my eyes fixed on the horizon, watching the storm gather strength. When the lightning strikes, the earth shall tremble, and the last vestiges of light extinguished. Then, at long last, the true reign of The Dread Lord shall begin.