The King of the Hollow

The King of the Hollow, His Royal Majesty of the Void, Lord Protector of the Empty greets you once more. He rules wisely, wielding His sceptre of dust, His magnanimity displayed by His coat of arms that is not. His Majesty’s decisions are just, for His decrees lead nowhere, as do all the roads within the bounds of His vast kingdom, where you can travel for weeks without encountering a single soul (rumour has it that His subjects do not even have souls at all, they are mere vessels). As far as the eye can see, there are rolling plains, He rules over lands filled with the absence of presence to the brim where the only thing that prevails is gone. The King is dead, long live the King. Three cheers for the Undying One, for He has never lived. Three cheers for that which never was and never will be for this is how things work around here at the brink of all there is, of none there is not there is not there is notthere isnot thereis not

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The King of the Hollow

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