Deep in the universe, the darkness was thicker than anywhere else.
There was no starlight, no glow from galaxies, no sign of any known celestial body.
Only pure, absolute darkness, heavy as matter.
Within that darkness slept a being older than the histories of most civilizations.
His body stretched across the void, and countless hornlike protrusions rose from his head.
Some towered like mountains; others were sharp as swords.
Dark red, veinlike patterns wound around every horn.
His eyes were closed, his eyelids like two heavy stone doors shutting his mind away from the world.
His breathing was the tide of the universe. With every inhalation, he drew the surrounding darkness toward his body.
Knull.
An ancient evil god, creator of the Symbiotes, and the true master of the Necrosword.
His consciousness drifted slowly through the darkness, lost in chaotic dreams during his long slumber.
He had created the first Symbiote, giving it life and hunger through his will.
He had fought the Celestials, slain one with the Necrosword, and forged its skull into his throne.
He had been exiled, betrayed by his own Symbiotes.
Severed from their collective consciousness, he had been forced to sleep in darkness beyond the reach of starlight.
Then he saw a light.
Silver-white and blinding, it cut through his dark dream like a blade.
It surged from the core of the Necrosword and pierced a fragment of his consciousness.
The piece of his soul attached to the sword was utterly erased.
It was not burned or corroded. It was wiped away, as though someone had taken an eraser to every trace of his existence.
Knull opened his eyes.
His stone-door eyelids slowly rose, revealing two dark red eyes like burning abysses.
Starlight was reflected in his pupils, but not because he could see the