Darkness began, not with a deficiency of light.
It began when the gods averted their gaze.
The Kingdom of Etherya was a cradle of divine harmony once. Held aloft on an island between stars by forgotten magic, it shone with a light of gold, where will defied gravity, and men walked on crystal bridges singing hymns to their Queen. But the moment the crown fell not from a head but from the heavens themselves the harmony fell apart.
The sky cracked.
It began as a line by itself across the sky, as if a tear in a painting. And then there was the sound not thunder but the keening shriek of the Void. It was then that the stars vanished, overwhelmed by an emptiness which never was in this universe.
And so on that day, Azeroth Valen, the last prince of Etherya, stood on the threshold of his empire as it died.
He was seventeen.
Not a warrior, not a wizard not yet. He spent his days studying books of old philosophers and starweavers, his fingers stained with ink, not blood. He had memorized galaxy names, not war strategies.
But fortune has no interest in boys' wishes.
"Azeroth." shouted the distressed voice of Lady Mirenya, his swordmaster. Her silver armor shone even against the eclipsed sky. "We have to go. The royal vault"
No, he replied, his voice more tranquil than she'd anticipated. "We can't leave them.".
She gazed out across the city -- its domes blazing, its towers folding in upon themselves as things with too many mouths and no eyes writhed from the rents in the void. The people screamed prayers to gods who long had no voice. No one was coming.
"They're already lost."
But he didn't budge. His fist was closed around a small obsidian pendant one that throbbed with heat against his chest. A present from his mother, Queen Aryalis, when he was twelve years old.
"One day, this will protect you from fates worse than death."
"What could be worse?" he had posed.
"Remembering that you are."
Now, that question made sense.
The palace collapsed in seconds after they reached the sanctuary. The sky above the throne room no longer existed it was replaced by a colossal black hole spewing purple fog. The stars kept dropping no, not stars, but wreckage of other worlds shattered and devoured.
"We don't have time," Mirenya breathed. "Take the blade."
It was laid before him. Tenebrum forged from the shattered comet, tempered in the blood of the original Void Dragon. It was reserved for royals. Only the true king could say its name and command the shadows.
Azeroth advanced. The air around the blade rippled. Darkness clung to it like molten metal. It was cold, but it felt… familiar.
With his fingers closing over the hilt, the room shook. The void let out a bellow in reply.
And something in him was stirred.
He could not remember much after that.
Just flashes.
The face of the High Chancellor aflame betrayed them all. Opened the void gate.
Mirenya screaming his name before vanishing in light.
The ground breaking under him.
The sky eating everything.
His heart pounding like a war drum.
And a voice. Timeless. Ancient. Hungry.
"Child of the Lost Crown.
You who witnessed your own world collapse.
Would you switch off the light?
Will you accept the vacuum?
He should have refused. He should have resisted. But he had already lost everything his kingdom, his family, his people.
He opened his mouth.
And replied…
"Let it consume me."
Somewhere past the worlds we know…
He awoke in a world where gravity had no master. Rocks floated aimlessly like lost dreams. Blue stars bled golden light. Ancient world-eater skeletons coiled around black suns.
Azeroth stood his whole form, but changed.
His right arm was now covered with glowing sigils. His eyes no longer shone with light they sucked it in. The shadows around him whispered. They bowed to him. They obeyed him.
Tenebrum stayed with him, now surrounded by living voidflame.
He was no longer a prince.
Not heir.
Not noble.
Not human, entirely.
He was something new. Something feared. Something necessary.
The Voidwalker.
The Crownless King.
A voice called out over the open area.
You are not the first to lose your way. but you are the first to rise up with your soul intact.
Out of the mist came a shape hooded in robes that rippled like ink in water. Eyes that could see through planes. A creature older than stars.
Azeroth drew the sword. "Who are you?"
The being smiled. "I am your teacher… if you wish to wield the void, not be devoured by it."
"I don't desire power," Azeroth said coldly. "I desire justice."
Then learn to survive.
Because where you're going, justice is just another illusion.
Far away… on a broken world… The High Chancellor stood on the body of Queen Aryalis.
The city swarmed with voidspawn.
He wore the Etherya crown as a joke.
He looked up at the broken sky and exhaled gently, "He will return." And smiled. "He must. Only then will the real war start."