Blackwater Islands devourer

with the pressing absence of their nightwife and shadowchildren, the islands are void of life except for him and the wildlife who made it their home long ago. it is a void within the dreadfather that they feel keenly; a chill that settles into their bones. but they remain. against all odds. against the hoarse whispers of the voiddwellers that slyly encourage them to move on. to keep doing their fated work and that their nightwife would find her way to them always. regardless.

it is only when she speaks that the dreadfather realizes their attention was zeroed in on the hollowed eyesockets of the skull; peering into the seething shadows as if it were a window into the void itself.

it was but it was not beneficial to lose themselves at the moment.

more —

they always needed — wanted — more. such was the nature of the daedric prince. lack of satisfaction was synonymous with their lack of empathy.

what would you desire in return? the dreadfather rumbles the question, understanding that everything had a price.