The Soulblighter
In an age that has come and gone, when Morithal, who is the Reaver, threatened the world directly, the Twin Gods blessed humanity with the gift of the Radiant and the Twin Flames. In the light of the Twin Flames the power of Morithal was thrown back and with the power of the Radiant, the Weaver of Shadows was cast into eternal darkness, never to touch the world again.
- from A Tapestry of the Ages by the historian Caelum
Beyond the boundary of reality, in a place outside time and space, the Worldender languished. For untold eons but mere seconds he suffered. Locked away from the warmth of reality in a place of darkness and cold. A tiny part of him remembered what it had been like, being alive, being mortal, but only a sliver. That tiny part of him could recall what it was like to open his eyes and see the world before him, instead of unending darkness. To feel the warmth of the sun, instead of the cold dead of his torment. That tiny part of him yearned for escape.
In the very moment he was cast into his prison, but not before a thousand thousands of years had passed, Morithal registered an intrusion. He experienced the intrusion as a tiny pinprick of light in a sea of utter darkness, though the mortal intruder experienced it as reaching a hand into a ball of pure darkness. For a time that was an eternity, Morithal observed the phenomenon. He considered it, and then, he acted.
Without moving, at least in the traditional sense, the Soulblighter reached out and surrounded the intruding hand. Then he consumed it. When he felt a tug on it, on what was now a tiny bit of himself, he let it go, let the mortal pull that insignificant speck of himself out of the prison and back to the world of humanity. And just like that, Morithal the Worldender could see the world again.
Anchored once more to the world of mortals, Morithal experienced the passage of time in a traditional sense. His worldview was limited, localized to a single mortal. But it was enough for the moment. He would be patient. He could be patient. Had he not waited for millenia untold? Mortals were predictable and this one, he knew, would return to him. It was merely a matter of time.
The time appointed came and the mortal who bore a piece of Morithal came again to the refuge of the trapped god. As he did, Morithal smiled. Soon now. Already he could feel the tiny pull of his missing fragment seeking to be united with him again. He let that tug be experienced by the mortal wearing his flesh. As expected, the mortal did exactly as he wanted. Once more, as only mortals can, the foolish creature stretched out its hand and reached through the tapestry of worlds into the place Morithal waited.
As the tiny fragment of Morithal once more parted the veil, Morithal guided it. Not, as the mortal believed, to the seed of his power left behind to anchor the refuge. No, this time the mortal reached out and closed his hand, Morithal’s hand, around one of the points the Radiant had set into his prison. Then the mortal squeezed and as it did, the point exploded.
The explosion ripped through the darkness and Morithal quivered with ecstasy. In the eternity he had been trapped he had found no way to destroy that magic which had been wrought against him. Not without help. Not without mortals.
The barrier which contained him was damaged, but not destroyed. It was not a force, or a place, or even a thing at all, but nevertheless, it was there. Morithal flung himself against it as he had done countless times before. All those times his efforts had been in vain. But all those times the barrier had been whole. This time, this time it quivered. It resisted him. Again he flung himself against it. Again he felt it shake beneath the awesome might of his assault. Again. Again.
A tiny crack appeared. It was such a small thing. No mortal could have seen it. Even if it had been an actual crack in an actual thing. Yet to Morithal, it was a brilliant slash of blinding energy. Once more he smiled. The mortal had set him free. Not today, maybe not next year. But his freedom was now certain.