This is set at the end of a dnd campaign of a party of three where they are encountering one of the four primordial gods who was previously considered a normal god - Loki god of lies - but is now revealed to be the primordial god of truth. In this word there is a set path that needs to happen, but it doesn't happen until Loki writes it because nothing is true until he writes it. But he finished writing all the truth there was but felt like he still had to do his job. So he continued writing but since there was no more truth he started writing lies. He went mad and all he wanted was his brothers' affection. His domain is an endless library with millions of red books (truth) or black books (lies).
The small door swung slowly and silently open. Before them sat Loki and, despite the endless library behind them, the endless truths and lies, despite his tricks, his strength, despite all this, he sat, he sat in the corner of a room, a room with at most one hundred books, and at most one thousand truths. He sat, he sat with his head down, hair covering his face, tears rolling down his cheeks. He sat, sad, feeble, broken. The party's eyes scanned the room. One hundred books sat on the shelves, labed 0 to 99, all but three black as night, each clearly labeled. Then all three sets of eyes landed on one book; book zero, test subject one - Loki. He who had witten life, death, and all there was; he who had been born with power above all; he who now sat in the corner of this room. He looked up at them. "Broth…- no, no, no…brothers is that you?" A grin of pure joy tried to stretch his face. His face was an attempt at being human - skin missing, eyes glassy, uneven pupils nowhere to be found, loose skin hanging. "And father too?" he said in a misshapen voice. Once again they scanned the room and…nowhere, noone, not a single book. This library, this collection of books, had not one book about them, nor anyone other than four names, four names that repeat and repeat; brother of time, brother of space, father of us.