The Realm of Death, the Beast of Final Rest, was vast. Like Rowan had figured out, all of existence had been thrown out of balance by the actions of the Primordials, and Death had grown more powerful than it should have ever been.
At the beginning of time, Death had access to only a small corner of existence at the deepest fringes of the infinite space that would later be called Limbo.
Death had never been welcomed by the rest of existence, and its Realm represented its position in the hierarchy of reality. If everything in existence had gone according to how it was supposed to be, then its Realm would have been one of the most hidden in all existence, and very few would have known of its existence.
The seven Primordials hovered before the Realm of Death, and it was no longer one Realm; they were now billions!
"That crow grew fat on our bounty," Xylos, Primordial Demon, grinned as he knelt down on one knee, his vast black wings spread behind him like a cloak.
