Chronicles of Verek

The skies had not always been so dark. The winds had not always howled with such ferocity, nor had the land known the curse of endless war. Yet on the day Varek was born, the heavens tore open as though they sought to swallow the world in flames. A tempest unlike any seen in centuries ravaged the land—a fury of lightning, rain, and earth-shattering winds, heralding the arrival of something... something that the old gods themselves feared. In the time before his birth, the seers had whispered of it, their eyes clouded with dread. The Chosen One—the Stormborn—would come, they said, carrying a blade forged in fire, one that would either bring salvation or doom. It was written in the stars, and no power in the world could change that. The prophecy spoke of the one who would stand against the tide of darkness and the coming of the Raven King, but the price of this power would be great. And so it was that when Varek was born, the winds howled, and the earth trembled, for the mark of ruin had been sealed upon him. The world wept that night, for no child should ever bear such a burden. Yet Varek did not weep. He knew not the weight of the world at that moment. But in the days that followed, the cost of his existence would become clear. The wolves of the north took him in after his mother’s death—a woman who had given her life to bring him into the world. His father—once a powerful warlord—was slain by those who had sworn to protect him. And so Varek was left to the wilderness, where the wolves raised him. They did not care for prophecy, fate, or the gods. They cared only for survival. Varek grew up wild, untamed, bound to the land, the forests, and the creatures who roamed them. His white hair—a mark of his birthright—stood out against the shadows of the wilderness, the color of frost and storm. He learned to hunt, to fight, and to survive in the harshest of conditions. But all the while, something inside him grew, something ancient and restless. The blade of his destiny, forged in the stars, had already begun to take shape. And it would not be denied.