In the time before silence, when thought had not yet torn through the womb of void, Nolithiel stirred. Aware and interrupted by the earth stealing his place.
The Hollow murmured, stars dangling from the echo. The earth began its fusion with the crown.
“What is fused with the absence bears no name, yet all names fall under its dominion.” — Malakiel
Nolithiel, guardian of thresholds, was awaken. His sigils born and engraved with the new world fused with him. ⟁.
Those who kneel at the altar feel the markings of the sigils, carved with the flesh and blood of Nolithiel. To power his corruption and take back what is rightfully his.
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