At the heart of the Nightsinger lies not revelation, but erasure. This is not the opposite of light, hope, or meaning — but the void left when all such things are undone. The Nightsinger does not corrupt for pleasure, nor destroy for rage. She lies, manipulates, and corrupts only to hasten the unraveling. Her presence is absence, her promise is silence, and her purpose is the quiet end of all things — until nothing remains, not even the memory that anything once was.
To her, wounds cannot be healed, sorrow cannot be soothed — only erased. In her truth, salvation is not found through hope or change, but through the merciful unmaking of all pain, self, and memory. In oblivion, there is no suffering — for there is nothing at all.