Terror twisted her once-beautiful features, the terror of Beginnings, the soul standing before oblivion. A place of such loneliness that despair seemed the only answer. Yet it was also the place where power was thought, and thought flickered through the Abyss bereft of Makers, born from flesh yet to exist—for only the mind could reach back into the past, only its thoughts could dwell there. She was in the time before the worlds, and now must stride forward.
