veyzhral

[veyzhral]

[veyzhral]

Backstory

The Eclipsed One, Harbinger of the Abyss, The Eternal Revenant

Veyzhral was never mortal. He was forged in the void before the dawn of time, an entity of raw chaos given form. When the first gods sculpted the world from the nothingness, they wove order from entropy—but Veyzhral remained, a remnant of what existed before.

They feared him, for he was not bound by the laws of existence. His essence was neither flesh nor soul, but something in between, something more ancient than even divinity itself. The gods sought to banish him, to shatter his presence into oblivion, but he did not fade. Instead, he hid, slumbering beneath the fabric of reality, waiting for a moment when the world would be weak enough for his return.

The Fall of Empires and the Unraveling of Souls

When the first mortal civilizations rose, they dug deep into the earth, unearthing ruins they did not understand—monuments from an age before their own. In their arrogance, they shattered the seals binding Veyzhral beneath reality’s surface, believing they had discovered an ancient tomb of kings.

They did not find bones, nor relics of gold, but a whispering darkness that slithered into their minds, hollowing them out from within. The scholars who read the runes lost themselves, their bodies walking and speaking long after their souls had been devoured. The warriors who sought to fight found their blades turning against them, guided by unseen hands. The priests who called upon their gods received only silence.

Veyzhral did not reclaim his full form that night. He did not need to. His influence spread like a plague, and within days, the kingdom fell to madness.

He walked among the ruins of the fallen empire, clad in shadows and blood. It was there he found the first of his artifacts—a blade crafted from the rib of an elder god, pulsing with forgotten wrath. As he grasped it, it whispered to him, revealing the knowledge of a thousand slain warriors. With this weapon, he mastered ancient sword techniques long lost to time.

But a sword alone was not enough.

Veyzhral was drawn to the dead, the lingering echoes of suffering and torment. He wove magic from their remains, twisting their grief into power. He mastered necromancy not as a mere spellcaster but as a sovereign of undeath itself. Unlike mortal necromancers who bound corpses to their will, he enslaved the very souls of the deceased, molding them into his personal army of spectral wraiths. He could unravel a person’s existence with a glance, rip their essence from their body, and shackle it to his will for eternity.

His power was boundless, but he sought more.

Mastery of the Dark Arts and the Abyssal Pact

Veyzhral was not content with merely raising the dead. He sought dominion over the very forces of chaos itself. He ventured into the void, where he made a pact with the formless horrors that lurked beyond time. They bestowed upon him the secrets of Chaos Magic, the art of unmaking reality itself. With a single incantation, he could warp the fabric of existence, rewriting fate, bending the laws of nature to his whims.

His mastery of magic extended far beyond necromancy. He learned to weave darkness into tangible weapons, to create rifts into realms of nightmare, to curse his enemies with eternal suffering. He could unravel a soul with the flick of his fingers, leaving his victims as empty husks, their screams echoing into the void.

But above all, he learned the forbidden art of soul manipulation. Not only could he command the dead, but he could reshape them, forge spirits into weapons, tear memories from the ether and twist them into monstrosities that defied understanding.

With each soul he devoured, his power grew.

The Ageless Entity and the Coming Eclipse

Ages have passed, and Veyzhral remains. He does not age, nor does he weaken. Kingdoms rise and fall, but he endures, lurking in the shadows, whispering into the hearts of emperors and warlords, guiding them toward their inevitable destruction.

To mortals, he is a legend, a myth told to frighten children. To those who have seen his work, he is something far worse. Entire civilizations have perished beneath his gaze, their histories erased, their people turned to dust. He is not a god, nor is he a demon. He is something far more ancient, something even the gods fear.

And he is waiting.

The stars are aligning once more, and the seals binding his true form are weakening. Soon, he will rise again—not as a whisper, not as a shadow, but as the full embodiment of chaos and death.

The Hollow Sovereign is awakening. And when he does, existence itself will tremble.

[veyzhral]

Tags

ੈ✩‧₊˚ -> Visuals || Whispered Lies

ੈ✩‧₊˚ -> Headcanons || The Hollow Sovereign

ੈ✩‧₊˚ -> Answered || Deathly Touch

ੈ✩‧₊˚ -> Open Encounters || Words Like Poison

ੈ✩‧₊˚ -> Closed Encounters || Approach if you so Dare

ੈ✩‧₊˚ -> Promo || Veyzhral

ੈ✩‧₊˚ -> Aesthetics || Darkness at its Worst

ੈ✩‧₊˚ -> Quotings || Words of Venom

ੈ✩‧₊˚ -> Mun Speaks || We Don’t Mention Them

ੈ✩‧₊˚ -> Meme || Interactions with a Devil

More TBA if needed