In a place beyond time and space, was where the dark Gods thread. Gods whose roars could destroy worlds, and with a presence that drove others mad.
That was why they always whispered. Why they never left the confine they themselves created to withstand their darkness.
They were given many names, but the one that most mortals called them was Horrorterrors.
But even in a place where time and space were as meaningless to them as life and death, the Gods weren't immortal.
They may have survived the tyrannical rule of The Time Lord, but not without casualties. They may have seen the death and rebirth of yet another universe, but with a lot less of them.
For once in their lived eternity they feared.
They feared their majesty would not survive another rebirth, another Lord. They feared in a way only a mortal could.
This fear was unacceptable.
It wasn't until they felt a shockwave across paradox space that they found a solution. They whispered among themselves, their quiet shrills vibrating throughout the void. Leaving a young girl pailing and shivering in familiar horror in her created universe.
They celebrated in sinister glee, as a potential player had been born.