Gorgathul

Where Obsidryx broke the world with speed, Gorgathul broke it with force.

It stood like a fortress of bone and horn — squat, immovable, layered in

armor so thick that even Aurelion's flame rolled off it like rain. When

Gorgathul lowered its crowned head and struck, mountains split. Not crumbled.

Split — cleanly, as if cut by a god's blade. The valleys and passes that wind

through the oldest mountain ranges were not carved by water or wind. They were

opened by Gorgathul, who walked through stone the way other creatures walk

through tall grass. It was not fast. It was not clever. It did not need to be.

Nothing in the Primordia could harm it, and nothing could stop it. Gorgathul

simply chose a direction and removed everything in its path, one mountain at

a time, with the patience of geology and the force of a falling moon.