Nihil floats. A cloud of gray. His nothing infects a host. He can not stay long. The body dies, kills itself. So Nihil floats on, drifting with the purpose of instilling purposelessness.
If you were nothing, wouldn’t you be lonely? Wouldn’t you want someone or something to joint you in the emptiness? Nihil wants more emptiness, more of himself surrounded by himself.
The crown is a means. He could command crowds. Instead he immolates individuals. Command them all to immolate. Self immolate. Maybe one will become a cloud like him, a cloud of emptiness, spreading itself.
The doorway he enters by is loneliness. Only those who brood. Only those who suffer alone. Only those who cast themselves out, or are cast out. Only those can be entered by Nihil.
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