Julian's fingers instinctively went to his neck; the phantom sensation of cold, invisible fingers tightening around his throat resurfaced at the mere thought of the Fallen God.
Back then in the void, the fallen god had talked so much, saying he had ruined things yet again, trying to save others instead of just being a spectator.
If he hated him that much, he should've killed him. No, death would be too easy. Then, he should've told him who he was and his crimes to torture him properly.
"If he hated me this much…" Julian muttered. "Why did he keep it a secret?"
"Because he is a creature who delights in the slow crawl of agony," the Light responded, its voice shimmering with a trace of sorrow. "He wanted to watch you struggle and drown in a sea of 'why' without ever reaching the shore of the truth. The hatred he bears for you is older than the empires of this world, Julian. It was born the moment you chose his creation over him."
