The Voidborne
No record exists of their origin.
Not among mortals.
Not among scholars.
Not even among the Primordials, before their fall.
What is known begins with their arrival.
The Descent
The Voidborne did not emerge from the world of Xylos.
They fell into it.
From beyond the sky, they entered the planet’s gravitational pull at impossible velocity. The descent was uncontrolled, violent, and absolute. When they struck the surface, the impact reshaped the land itself—carving a vast crater that still scars the world today.
They did not rise slowly from the wreckage.
They did not recover.
They did not orient themselves.
They began to destroy.
Among them was one whose mass dwarfed all others—so large that its fall altered the devastation radius of the impact itself. Its presence was undeniable, even then. Its name, however, would not be spoken for ages.
Nature of the Voidborne
The Voidborne do not possess elemental mana.
They wield no fire, no water, no wind, no stone.
What moves within them is something else entirely—
a pure, destructive energy, devoid of intent, thought, or variation.
They do not think.
They do not choose.
They do not hesitate.
They are drawn instinctively toward mana, aura, and life, as if such forces provoke them simply by existing. Wherever life gathers, the Voidborne follow. Wherever they arrive, life ends.
Form and Presence
Voidborne bodies are not flesh as the world understands it.
They are shaped from impossible black matter—converged darkness given structure. What resemble bones are not separate substances, nor lighter material, but the same condensed matter forced into rigid support, imposed rather than grown, as if death itself dictated their form.
Their aura is not merely sensed.
It is visible.
A thick, black distortion surrounds them, warping the air and swallowing light. The darkness around a Voidborne deepens with every act of destruction, swelling outward like a living storm. The ground fractures beneath their weight. The air bends and strains in their presence.
Their sounds—if they can be called that—are not cries or roars, but shrieks that feel wrong to hear. They do not inspire fear through meaning or threat.
They inspire it through existence.
Instinct and Weakness
Voidborne feel no pain.
No fear.
No doubt.
They do not retreat because they cannot comprehend loss.
Yet they are not invincible.
Their only known vulnerability lies in life force—what some call ki. Attacks shaped from living essence disrupt their structure in ways elemental force cannot. Life stands as their natural opposite, just as they are the embodiment of death.
Even so, such attacks require immense resolve. For to strike a Voidborne is to confront something that does not recognize resistance.
The Present Era
In the age that followed the Primordial War, the number of Voidborne roaming Xylos diminished drastically.
The war itself ended with the annihilation of the Primordials. In its aftermath, the greatest of the Voidborne was forced into slumber—its body broken, its will dormant, recovering beneath the world it had scarred.
Only fragments of that era remain.
Only echoes.
Only three dragons still live.
The crater still exists.
And so does the darkness.
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