"Xarath's POV"
The thread snapped somewhere in the vast emptiness of my consciousness, severing like a string pulled too tight until it finally gave way. The Harvester was gone, destroyed by something strong enough to tear apart an entity I'd spent decades crafting from stolen fragments and dimensional corruption, but I felt no anger at the loss because servants were replaceable and this one had served its time.
I didn't mourn because tools were meant to be used until they broke, and the Harvester had done exactly what I needed for years before meeting its end. It had fed me souls from the Echoing Wastes, kept the dimensional crossing points active, trapped consciousness fragments in endless loops until they shattered enough for me to consume, but now all of that was finished and I neede
