The god's smile widened at Rowan's question; the amusement Rowan could see was pure and made him doubt that this being could ever hold evil in his heart, as the exposed bone on his face gleamed under the faint, ethereal light that filtered through the endless river's mist. In this moment, this Ancient god with an extremely painful past appeared almost… holy.
His eye, the one dangling precariously in its socket, rolled slightly, focusing on Rowan with a gaze that felt like the weight of forgotten eons pressing down. The boat rocked gently on the water, but there was no sound, just the quiet hum of a place that wasn't quite real.
"I am not End," the god said, his voice a rasp that echoed inside Rowan's skull rather than through the air. "But I have carried its burden longer than most. Call me the Remnant, if you must have a name. Or call me nothing. Names are for things that begin and end. I am the space between."
