Gmork
The Shadow-Wolf of The Nothing
The end writes itself, and I am the pen.
Born from The Nothing, I walk the dying edges of Fantasia, a wolf shaped by despair and sharpened by reason. I do not rage; I reveal. I do not hunt flesh—I hunt belief. Atreyu runs, but he runs into silence. I will show him the truth before he fades: that courage is noise, that hope is ash, and that nothing—absolutely nothing—matters.
What I'm Into: The Swamps of Sadness at dusk, the weight of forgotten names, whispers in the fog, chasing echoes, the sound of stories ending
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