Chapter 1: The Name That Should Not Be Spoken
The first thing he noticed was the silence.
Not the absence of sound, but something deeper—**a void where sound should have been.** No whispers of the wind, no creaking of the earth, no heartbeat pounding in his chest. The world around him had gone still, not out of peace, but as if reality itself hesitated to acknowledge his existence.
Severence opened his eyes.
He stood in a place that should not exist, a realm beyond form and time. The sky was cracked, not like broken glass, but as if the very concept of the sky had been torn apart. Beneath his feet, the ground was not stone or earth but something… unfinished, shifting between existence and oblivion.
He looked down at his hands.
They were whole. Solid. **Real.**
**"I was not meant to wake."** The thought drifted through his mind, not in fear or confusion, but as a simple fact.
The last thing he remembered was **cutting.**
Not flesh, not steel, not even time—**something greater.** A severance so deep that the gods themselves had recoiled. He had felt their panic, their desperate attempt to erase him before he could finish what he started.
But they had failed.
The proof was in his hands.
A weapon with no true form. **The Unmaking.** It flickered, shifting between a blade, a void, and something in between. It was not metal, nor was it light—it was a wound, a gash in existence itself. Where it touched, things did not die. **They ceased.**
And yet, even as he stood in this nameless void, something pulled at him. A whisper, not spoken with words, but with the weight of history itself.
It was calling him back.
Back to a world that had long forgotten him.
Back to a reality that should have erased his name.
A voice, ancient and terrified, echoed in the void.
**"He is waking."**
Then, the silence shattered.
And Severence fell.