Eldrithor, Primordial Chaos did not need any forge, not when Existence itself and all the madness that it held was the best forge for him. He went to the center of this blackened scar, and he spun around like a black hole, his wings tearing the fabrics of this cursed place into a vortex of improbability.
Every rotation he made pulled in fragments of shattered causality from the past and the probable future. He reached into timelines where Asteroath had lived, futures where the Primordials had lost, and pasts where they had never betrayed. He was chaos, and meaning and truths meant nothing to him.
Eldrithor always had the potential to be the strongest of the Ancient Primordials, but there had never truly been a chance for him to shine, not when he was beset by madness, but those scales had fallen away, and now he could bring out the meaning of chaos.
