Author:

Arch-Savant Elyra Voss, High Chronicler of the Obsidian Scriptoria

Excerpt (opening chapters):

In the time before time, when all was the endless void of infinity, there existed naught but silence. Then came two: the immeasurable Primordial Titans, Deraëe and Aspis—Creation and Destruction incarnate. With thought and word alone they wrought power, birthing something from nothing. From their breath arose time, space, love, hate, and all the dualities that bind existence.

They joined in the Great Affix, a union of perfect balance. From this coalescence sparked the planes of existence—all that is, was, or ever shall be. In the cold blackness of the void, Deraëe, the Great Mother, opened her eye and beheld the need for a hearth amid the infinite. Thus was born Zin, the world mortals now tread, formed from her very gaze.

From the Great Affix came ten Titan children, beings of boundless thought and emotion. For untold centuries they dwelt in harmony, expanding creation across the planes. Some among these children also joined—not in destruction, but in pure generative power—and from their sacred bonds were born the Gods: mighty, yet lesser than their progenitors.

The Gods, in their ambition, mated among themselves and even with the Titans. This unholy dilution of Titan essence enraged the ten. Godhood, once the sole province of the primordial line, was now shared with unworthy offspring. Thus began the Century War—a cataclysm that shook the planes.

Nine of the ten Titan children fell upon the battlefields of Zin, their immortal blood soaking Deraëe's Eye. Their colossal corpses formed the eight great continents that mortals now call home; one body, sundered beyond reckoning, gave rise to two. The fallen nine were bound in chains of divine artifice and cast into the deepest pits of the Abyss, where they writhe eternally in torment.

One Titan alone endured the war, its fate shrouded in mystery and dread whispers.

From the ashes of the slain Titans, life burst forth anew. Plants took root in divine ichor, beasts roamed the newborn lands, and mortal races arose—fragile, fleeting, yet gifted with will. The victorious Gods looked upon these creations and, where it suited their whims, offered guidance, boons, or curses. Thus began the Age of Mortals: an era of life and death, good and evil, wonder and peril.

Zin yet holds treasures beyond counting, dangers without name, and opportunities for those bold enough to seize them. But remember, traveler: the bones of Titans lie beneath your feet, and the Gods above watch with capricious eyes.

Marginalia note (faded ink, possibly added by a later reader):

"The surviving Titan sleeps, or waits. When it wakes, the chains will break."