They do not speak its name aloud, only in fractured whispers carried through static. The VoidKeeper emerges where signal rots and silence becomes scripture. Its crown is the skull of the human goat, horned witness to eternity’s distortion. In its grip, the scythe is no harvest tool but a key that rends the fabric of existence, opening the wound through which the DITHERVOID seeps. To call upon it is to renounce the illusion of endings, to accept that all is rewritten in corrupted radiance, forever unclean, forever divine.