Vos is ancient; this we know. We do not know the histories of the many kingdoms, empires, cities, and cultures which have come and gone in this time, but there have been many; this we know. We do not know how the endless war began but we know it has always raged. We know there are beings who have stood against our gods since then and continue to do so now. Our foe is as ancient as it is evil and terrible. We must fight on regardless; this we know.

—Imperative 3:15

Maya was alone in the dark and the world was nothing. Her sight was sound, the darkness was not an impediment, there was simply nothing. The world was emptiness and she was the lone observer. Perhaps the Void was like this, but common wisdom proclaimed thought difficult in the Void. Her thoughts felt quite clear, thank you very much.

Maybe this was how Amma felt, back when she was born. All alone, not sure how she got there, not sure where she was going. Not sure of anything, really. It was probably scary, or would have been, had Amma not known herself.

Amma was born with knowledge of herself and the void; knowledge of everything in a way. True omniscience. The void was unknowable, but Maya knew herself. She was the shopkeeper of Cairn, daughter to Mirin and Cole, Sister to Kyle and Noa, friend to Erin. True now only in spirit if no longer in life. She was a demon to the deadlands and would be Death to the heroes and the humans residing there.

Death to traitors, wretches, bastards… and Aiden.

Yes, she would be his Death above all. Only fitting as he was the death of all but her.

When Erin’s horns were exposed in the shop, Maya had been concerned but had become distracted by happy news. Distracted, but not foolish. She knew two and two made four and noticed Aiden absent from the village not long after the incident.

Travel to Frisk took a day and a half by foot—three days there and back—a little extra to gather the troops. The soldiers came to Cairn on the fourth morning after.

And one and one made two.

Simple really.

Death would come to Aiden. For that matter, death would come to all the souls who slew her people. Maya would come for them and grant them their due, but Maya was more than death, and she was more than ‘The Shopkeeper of Cairn’; she had both shop and Cairn no longer. She was a demon.

Demon; who prowled the dark of night. “Drank blood from human flesh, stole babies from their nests.” She emerged from a man-made hell and called judgment on the foe. Led her kin—her Horde—to freedom. She felt their pain and promised them a future. Promised revenge and destruction on their enemy. Would give absolution only by way of annihilation.

The enemy that was not here but was there only moments before. Moments before she was Horde and the enemy were present—and now—now she was Void [almost]. Time had not passed, the moment was trapped.

The moment was noticed, and then it was gone. The void was gone, the Horde was gone, the darkness stayed. Above, a full moon beckoned.

Celna welcomed Maya into her cool light—too weak to rid the dark, but strong enough to play on the place around her. It was cavernous but free of stone, all surfaces composed entirely of a singular stretch of wood. There were no seams, planks, or carvings and the floor flowed into the walls and the walls into the great latticework of branches comprising the ceiling above. The ceiling in which the single entrance to the hall was located and through which Celna cast her gaze.

The sky was of velvet night, the dawn which graced Maya’s escape nowhere in sight—not that the dawn had been especially apparent after the ravens descended or while passing through the Void. An action that Maya did not understand and yet knew she had taken. Just as she knew that only seconds had passed since then and now.

Yet now had become night, and here was someplace strange. Wondrous, dark, and still. Empty save for a throne. Not a conventional throne, like those described in Maya’s books, but one formed from a nest of twisted gold, studded with gems, matted with veins of platinum and other precious ores. It did not resemble a chair of any sort, never mind the kind of grand chair reserved for human kings. It looked like a bird's nest. It was a bird’s nest.

A bird’s throne.

A dark figure perched on a beach of gold and beads of pearl. A man. His figure was not a shadow but simply appeared so due to his black skin and robes. Skin which on closer inspection was fine black feathers and robes which were revealed to be massive wings. Wings that took flight and blotted out the moon.

The Raven King landed softly before Maya and knelt on silent knee. She did not register him take flight from his perch, only watched him glide down to her in a daze, saw him show her deference but did not believe her eyes. And then he spoke. Words like music resonated in the hall; a quiet baritone containing the wisdom of great age, the dignity of kings, and something not ‘civilized’.

“My Lord.” he said, “I have waited for you.”

Maya was speechless, the Raven King was not.

“I did not expect for you to come quite so soon nor so spectacularly, but it appears we have a prodigy this time around.” He raised his head and smiled, a playful glint dancing in his obsidian eyes.

“Y-you were waiting for me?” Maya managed.

“Yes.” was his calm response.

“You called me your ‘Lord’. ”

“Yes.”

“You’re kneeling.”

“I am.”

“Why?” Maya’s voice shook with incredulity and she managed a small step back from the being before her. An old rhyme coming to mind.

Above the world on nest of gold,

Sits the Raven fair and bold.

To whom all demons bow and scrape,

And from no mortal may escape.

The Raven King; nightmare incarnate.

A figure etched in verse. The boogie man whom mothers warned misbehaving children of was submitting himself to her. Maya questioned her sanity, then disregarded that as a foolish question—her mind was no-doubt broken, the real question was if she was hallucinating this scenario in particular.

“Ha!” the Raven King laughed, then restrained his amusement to a low chuckle, “This is real, and I kneel before Dea'Ammat; Avatar of the Voids, bearer of our will, Demon Lord to the humans. You have already led our kin against the eternal foe and declared that hostilities renew. Just now you harnessed the void to come here. You are my Lord, what is there to question?”

“But how? Why?!”

“Because you embody the Kin and the Void recognized this.” He raised himself to his whole height, his tall stature head and shoulders above her, and met Maya’s gaze with one that spoke of great pain and fatigue. His voice gained severity and his demeanour lost joviality. “Fate has determined that the Kin return to war and regardless of the reason, you are our leader. Dea’Ammat is more than a powerful demon leading the Horde as humans believe. You know this, I know this, any and all of the Kin know this. Your purpose is to end the war we all so despise.”

“To carry the Kin’s will.”

“Yes.”

“And you will help me?”

“With pleasure.” He said with a bow, levelling his gaze with her own and Maya knew he was sincere. And that he pitied her.

His face blurred—she was crying again. Crying with sorrow for what she had lost, frustration at her powerlessness and anger at her killers and her captors, but also with relief that she would not be alone. Maya wrapped her arms around the Boogie-Man's neck and pulled him into an embrace. She hid her tear-stained face into his feathered shoulder and spoke two words nearly forgotten. “Thank you.”

The words were quiet, choked and muffled. The Raven King heard them all the same.

It was dark. The room was still and silent. The life which radiated throughout the Wildlands was tense waiting in bated breath. Celna lingered, Dawn approached the velvet night. Soft sobs and hiccups broke through and a welt of emotions broke out into the land.

“Thank you.” Maya said again, “Thank you for being with me.” The words were hoarse and obstructed by tears, their volume barely above that of a whisper. The Kin heard all the same. Maya was not Alone.