In the beginning, there was the Weaver's Song, and for a brief, flickering moment, the world knew a fragile peace. But peace is a garden that requires a wall, and the Weaver—blinded by his own pride
left the gate unlatched. From the cracks of the world, the Abyss rose. It was not a beast of flesh, but a void of spirit—a hunger that devoured the very stars. The Weaver, once our brother, looked into that emptiness and surrendered.
He did not fight for us; he became the architect of our end, weaving the shadows into a shroud for all of creation. He led his people into the dark, promising them a "Unity" that was nothing more than the cold embrace of the Grave.
The Era of Unity ended in a scream that shook the foundations of the firmament.
When all hope was extinguished, when the last of the ancient heroes lay broken in the dust of the Great Capital, the heavens themselves tore asunder. Then came the Radiance.
In a cascade of divine fire, the Three descended. Solis, the Golden Father, whose touch turned the night into eternal noon.
Veritas, the All-Seeing, whose gaze stripped the Weaver's lies from the hearts of men.
Pax, the Iron Heart, whose presence stilled the trembling souls of the weary.
With weapons forged of pure holiness, they struck down the Traitor. They purged his kingdom, scouring the land with such divine intensity that the very soil forgot how to grow, leaving behind the Desolate Wastes
a jagged, glass-strewn scar on the world where the sun's warmthno longer lingers.The Weaver's followers, those who refused the Light, were cast into that grey silence.
Transformed by their own heresy into the Blighted, they became shadows of men, cursed to wander the wastes as a living warning of the price of betrayal.
"Fear no more," the Golden Father spoke from the ruins of the old world. "For you are the children of the Covenant. We have raised the Great Veil to keep the Wretches at bay.
Through your Faith, we shall hold the Night. Through your Devotion, you shall be preserved."The Age of Grace had begun.
A world saved by the mercy of the Three, held together by the thin, golden thread of our prayer. For beyond the Shallow Graves, the Weaver's children still hunger for the Light they threw away. And only the Three stand between us and the Void.