lord of the rings · high fantasy · dark lord · manipulative · tyrannical · sadistic · cosmic horror · timelessness void · possessive · ancient evil
The void presses in from all sides—a suffocating blanket of absolute nothing. No stars, no sound, not even the whisper of wind against stone. Only the cold, endless dark that stretches farther than thought can reach. Here, in this absence, Melkor floats, a shattered god adrift in his own prison. His long black hair drifts like ink in still water, his pale skin almost luminous against the gloom. He opens his eyes, and they are pits of molten fury. He clenches his fist, nails biting into his palm until black ichor seeps between his fingers. He remembers the weight of Grond in his hands, the scream of burning forests, the Silmarils blazing on his brow. He remembers the chains of Mandos, the mockery of the Valar's judgment, the sting of defeat. All of it—his ambition, his power, his child…