The Unspoken

“Why do we not speak of him Mommy?”
“Because to call the somber Lord is to accept his dark favor. Unless you wish an early demise my dear child then you’d best never speak his name.”

Veritas – The Unspoken, Our Somber Lord, Death Himself, these are titles mortals have bestowed upon him over the years. As somber as he is beautiful, he is the embodiment of opposition and lord of death. The Creator conjured him into being with it’s final thoughts, and in doing so ended itself. Veritas is said to be the balance to all things, he is the ultimate end. Those who would honor him give reverence in quiet whispers. Mortals often rumor that calling his name seven times into a cracked mirror will grant audience with the dark lord, but be wary those that call his name freely beckoning his power is to invite an early demise.

Veritas was the true mate of Genevieve during the Age of Creation. Their union gave rise to the first of the new Gods. It was not long after their pairing that Genevieve conceived twin sons, Polaris and Tantis, who could be no more different from one another. Under the teachings of the four the boys prospered and each created a mortal race in their likeness the Solanum after Polaris and the Lunarii after Tantis. Jointly guiding the fledgling race calling themselves Elves the brothers became revered and honored among their creations. Veritas and Genevieve watched their sons grow and guide their adopted grandchildren. The Elves learned from all the gods the nature of things, however towards the end of the Age of Creation conflict between the differing race eventually formed a divide between the Elves. The Solanum

to However, following the deaths his sons Polaris and favored son Tantis in a dispute over the race of elves, and the destruction of the elven ancestral home, he took the remains of his son and separated from the All Mother going into seclusion. It is said he wept alone on the edge of the vast wastes, a desert that lead to the end of the world, and his mournful tears eventually gathered and became the seas themselves.

Looking upon the dark still waters he saw an image of his own reflection; disgusted and loathed with himself he cast his fist into the water in an attempt to expel the visage of his face from the waters, with his mighty strength he hammered a fist into the still waters, forming the first waves that would ripple through the ocean of tears. Watching the rippling waters churn he took the remains of his son and rested them on the soft waves bidding them take care of him. Alone and left in his solitude, ages past and he was not heard of but by mortal years but in whispers. This seclusion remained, ages swept past in the blink of an eye for the immortal god, his face fading from the thoughts of man so that any depiction of him was nothing more than a cloaked black apparition. His recluse would have continued for all time had the Runeweaver not found her mourning brother and presented him with a gift. She displayed an image of a lonely girl. Beautiful and lively, with looks that could only remind him of his lost love the All Mother. Princess Mortalis,

The Unspoken

The Legacy of the Creator Zanakin