In the primordial age of existence, there was a celestial entity of unfathomable power known as Axiel. This magnificent being, shrouded in mystery and enigma, traversed the boundless cosmos, seeking the ideal cradle for its grand creation. Its origins were as elusive as the edge of the universe, yet its power resonated through the cosmic void. Amidst the infinite expanse of the cosmos, Axiel found solace in a vibrant corner of the universe known as Shruvan Ra’i.
Shruvan Ra’i was a cosmic canvas painted with a myriad of colors, a spectacle that captivated Axiel. The entity formed a profound bond with the pulsating energies that danced across this celestial stage. Axiel meticulously explored every corner of this vast cosmic theater, seeking any anomalies, any unique forces that stood out from the cosmic ballet. It discovered one such force, a swirling vortex of energy that painted the cosmos with its vibrant hues. This mesmerizing spectacle was named Su’Cran by Axiel. Once its cosmic compass was set, Axiel embarked on the creation of the First World. It sculpted a constellation of eight worlds within this cosmic plane. The eighth and final world is where our tale commences - in the distant reaches of the cosmos, in a region known as the Adherent Reach.
This world was a unique amalgamation of two distinct realms, known as the Adherent Worlds of Salaria and Ulumbria. These two worlds coexisted in harmony, each existing on separate planes yet bound together as one. From the celestial canopy, one could witness the rotating field that eternally encircles this world, revealing each separate realm with each celestial rotation. One realm was bathed in radiant light, while the other was shrouded in enigmatic darkness, together maintaining the cosmic balance of the eight worlds.
In the luminous world of Salaria, there existed a unique race known as the Gongorians. These beings were warriors and brutes in every sense, their strength and courage echoing through the chronicles of Salarian history. Axiel deemed them the chosen protectors of Salaria, a claim that was often dismissed as a myth by the other races on the planet, fueled by envy and skepticism. The veracity of this claim remained a mystery, due to the sacred oath the Gongorians took upon their death to visit the god of the dead.
An elderly Gongorian slowly rose to his feet. His long white hair and light golden skin shimmered under the soft glow of the room, a thin layer of sweat lending a subtle sheen to his skin. The Gongorians were naturally equipped with slight claws and canines, their appearance reminiscent of felines, albeit with less fur. He cast a warm smile at the young Gongorian before him. “One day, you will ascend to the throne, and when that day arrives, you must remember the tales I’ve woven and the lessons I’ve imparted. Like your father and my father before him, you must draw wisdom from the teachings I’ve bestowed upon you throughout your life.”
The room was bathed in an amber glow, emanating from the slowly dying fire in the center of the room. The bed was adorned with gold and other precious metals and stones, a testament to the Gongorian’s opulence. The old man ambled towards the bookshelf on the wall, placing a book within the only vacant slot on the shelf. “Always remember, Tiberius, the Creaven is an ever-evolving tapestry, and your actions will be eternally inscribed once your deeds are accomplished,” he said. The boy responded in a hushed tone, “Yes, grandfather, I will uphold my father’s legacy and rule as a just and fair king amongst my people.” The Creaven was a book that ceaselessly chronicled history. There was only one primary book in existence, and it resided in a world beyond the Gongorians’ own. Once every century, the keeper of the book would enter the realms of Salaria and Ulumbria to append new pages to the main books situated in all the major Kingdoms each with their own version which they keep shrouded in secrecy.
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The following day was bathed in warmth. In the lands of Salaria, four suns illuminated the sky. The only darkness that existed was conjured by the magic of the dark keepers and the passion of the Ulumbrian ring which occurred every forty eight hours. There were also some densely forested areas that were perpetually cloaked in darkness. The sounds of clarions echoed across the capital city of Nev’rene, signaling the start of a new day. The city was abuzz with activity, with carriages and horses traversing the streets, and the people engrossed in their daily chores. But this was no ordinary day, for this was the day when the son of the king, Tiberius, would meet the entity they referred to as the God of the Dead. This was the day when he would come face to face with his destiny.
The town square was teeming with the city’s inhabitants as the trumpets resounded. The people craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the tallest spire where the king was expected to make his appearance. A Gongorian, dressed in fine linen, stepped onto the balcony and began to address the crowd. “Today is a day unlike any other, for King Athdar will be escorting his son, Tiberius, to the sacred place where the chosen are summoned according to the Creaven,” he announced. The man then retreated, and after a few moments, King Athdar made his appearance. He was clad in the finest linen in the land, adorned with exquisite furs and jewelry. He surveyed the sea of faces that filled the central courtyard. “My fellow Gongorians, I thank you all for your presence on this momentous day. My son has reached a pivotal juncture in his life when he must meet Tarum, the god of the dead. He is the future, and I am the present. With the knowledge he will acquire, he will guide us towards a prosperous future for the generations to come.”
King Athdar turned and, with his right hand, gestured for his son to ascend the podium. “PRINCE TIBERIUS, MY SON, AND YOUR FUTURE,” he proclaimed in a deep, resonant voice that reverberated across the city. A magnificent chariot pulled into the open courtyard adjacent to the town square, and the prince handed his sacred cloak to his father. King Athdar placed his hand on his son’s shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile and a nod. He leaned in and whispered into his ear, “My son, this day marks the beginning not just for you, but for all of us. I fear that my past deeds may cast a shadow over your future, and for that, I apologize. For it is not chronicled in the Creaven due to the elders’ advisory. Your chariot awaits, my son.”
Prince Tiberius was then escorted to the chariot stationed in the courtyard. He embarked on his journey towards the eastern sun, to the land of Neyrub, where the keepers of the Shrine of Tarum resided. The journey would span three days, but the prince was heavily guarded and shielded from any external threats.