The Outsider

His name is no longer upon the cusp of his lips, a word that he, himself can no longer utter. For the name he had been given upon his mortal birth would free him of the binding shackles of the Void. A nameless Deity who presided over the ever changing landscape of disjointed landmasses and floating creatures that made up the otherworldly dimension. A place where the Past, Present, and Future intertwine through his very fingers. He has not the ability to directly manipulate events, but he can often change outcomes by swaying unique individuals whom catch his eye with equally unique gifts. 

The time in which the Void gave birth to him, as the Outsider isn't known, other than he recalls a faint recollection of the previous Deity before him, as if the Void itself has imparted it's memories onto him. Yet he is unsure just how much time has ticked on by since the previous Incarnation. A day? Month? Years? This, he is unsure of. Yet the Void seems to feel strange, as if it has become restless, unstable. As if the Chaos out within the Mortal realm was beginning to seep into the world of Blight and Shadows. Civil war, famine, and Bloodlust had swept across the continent he was strangely familiar with. 

From the ashes gave birth to something in which the Void shuddered in disgust. A Witch most foul was given form from the coalesced hatred and ill intent which tapped into the very well of power that He himself drew upon. Two conduits drawing upon the very same source of power, threatening to destabilize the Void with untold consequences. What would happen if this isn't addressed? Would it only spell the end for this plane of reality? Or would it eventually seep into other planes throughout time and space?  

The void. A realm hidden away from Human eyes, nestled between Wakefulness, and Dreams. Sanity, and the Sane. Order, and Chaos. A realm of sentience which often contradicts itself, which is the only way it maintains it’s own brand of chaotic balance. Often depicted as a place of mystery where lone, isolated islands float across the endless black sea’s, Where whales swim through the blackened abyss far below these disjointed landmasses; One being reigns supreme.

The Outsider. It’s not entirely known why this strange, misplaced realm requires an entity of divine proportions. It’s only known that the realm has seen many new Host’s come and go since the beginning of creation, how these beings came to the end of their line, isn’t known. The sentience of the realm eventually craves for a new host, and will seek someone worthy to pull into the Void. Once the void successfully brings a new host into the void, the physical body is lost, releasing the host’s soul or spirit into the realm to become the new Outside. To which the realm begins to change according to the new Host’s personality.

~You may not remember my face, though I remember yours. Countless nights we’ve conversed the tide of events as we sat upon the pillars of stone; while Leviathans gracefully swam through the abyss. You may not remember me, but you’ve heard my voice, my lips forming the shape of your name. I am the shiver that runs down the nape of your neck during the Month of Ice. You may not remember my presence, but I have peered into your vary heart. I’ve swam the currents of your soul. Sifted the sands of your mind. You may not remember me, but I know you better than yourself, for I have peered into the Darkness, and it back into me.~

~Have you remembered me yet? No? I remember you. I have glimpsed the Past. Present. And Distant future. I have seen the true colors of human hearts that have turned to greed, for they turn blacker than the darkest pit of the void. I have seen men and women stain their hands crimson, all in order to protect what they love. I have seen people kill for no reason at all. I have seen Women become Witches, and Men into Death itself, all in order to avoid the inevitable. For we all will die when the time comes, the only thing that matters in the end; is what you did.

So. . . Will you accept it?

Take a deep breath. . .

Hold it in. . .

Now release. . .

You feel that burn upon your hand? My gift to you.

Now, how will you use that power? To destroy the world that dared keep you down? Or to build it up, and give voices to the mute? The choice is yours. . .

Just know, I’m always watching. . .

Waiting for you to remember my name. . .