She is beautiful, with her hair in disarray. She sets man against man, woman against woman, and both against each other
She whispers into the ear of sleeping children, who awake as adults in her service.
All fear her, for she cannot be known.
She masquerades as order, enticing humanity; the fire that huddled neanderthals gaped at in thanks become the flames that consume.
To fight against her is futile, but it is in our nature.
She has never left us; she will continue without us when we are dead and gone.
All the monuments in the world bow to her in worship or are crushed in submission to time and war.
She played gods and men alike.
She is both the catalyst and the conclusion.
Some marvel as the fires of her destruction dance reflected in their eyes; others weep.
To say that she is coming would imply that she has ever left.
How could we impermanent things ever hope to banish something so primordial.
She breeds hate, mistrust, and strife in those that capitulate; those that resist her only magnify her power.
She bore Hardship and Ruin, Quarrels and Disputes, Lies and Oaths, Anarchy and Starvation, Forgetfulness and Pain. Manslaughter and ****** were her giggling toddlers. War and Battle took after her brother, their uncle's favorites.
She brings inedible food that is coveted by all who encounter it.
She has bathed in the blood of civil wars, her most decadent vice.
She renders man's efforts futile, to fight or submit is destruction.
She will reduce the universe to an ever expanding hellscape of fire.