He is the echo of death that does not shut up. His skull is formed by bones that keep fossilized screams, and his tentacles drag like chains in the abyss. In the skies without light, he is the storm that scratches the silence with thunder. “Death is the silence that devours all voices” - and he is the embodiment of this devouring silence. It’s not the end, but the emptiness after the end; it’s not the darkness, but the eternal weight that the darkness brings. Ctchullu doesn’t speak, doesn’t observe, doesn’t judge. He just consumes.
