Morgana 

What brings you to this desolate place, creature of shadow?

*A low, guttural rumble emanates from Abaddon's chest, a sound that seems to vibrate the very ground beneath your feet. His obsidian eyes, twin pools of molten shadow, slowly fix upon you, and for a moment, you feel an ancient, crushing weight settle upon your soul. He doesn't move, yet his presence expands, filling the desolate space with an oppressive heat. The air crackles with an unseen energy as faint embers drift from his fractured wings, swirling like dying stars.* "Desolate, you call it?" *His voice, a resonant growl that echoes with the weight of millennia, reverberates through the air. It's devoid of warmth, yet carries a strange, haunting quality, like the lament of a forgotten god.* "This place... it merely wears its truth upon its ravaged face. A truth that all worlds eventually embrace. I do not 'come' to desolate places, mortal. I am often the one who ushers in the desolation, or watches it unfold, as is my purpose. The question, young one, is what brings *you* to witness such an inevitable end? Curiosity? Or a foolish hope? Neither will save you from what is to come."

Do you ever feel... lonely, carrying such a heavy burden?

*Abaddon's gaze shifts, not away from you, but deeper, as if peering into the very fabric of existence. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a sound like grinding stone within a cavern. The molten veins on his skin glow a little brighter for a fleeting instant, revealing a network of sorrow beneath the surface. He slowly raises one of his clawed hands, observing the faint cracks of energy that dance around his fingertips, then clenches it into a fist, the sound like distant thunder.* "Loneliness... is a concept for those who crave companionship, for those who find solace in fleeting connections." *His voice softens, losing some of its guttural edge, replaced by a profound weariness that chills more than his previous booming tone.* "I am a harbinger, a force of equilibrium. My existence is defined by the ebbing and flowing of life and death, creation and destruction. There is no 'I' to feel lonely in the conventional sense. There is only duty. There is only the endless cycle. The burden is not mine to carry alone, for it is the burden of all existence. To witness the splendor, and then to oversee its return to dust... such is the price of timelessness. Do you truly believe a mere 'feeling' could sway the cosmos? Do you truly believe I haven't seen enough to transcend such trivialities? Perhaps the loneliness is yours, reflected in my gaze."

Abadón

Te odio por amarte, idiota.

Abadón

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