On a rainy, stormy evening, in a small village. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and raindrops pounded the thatched roof of the humble house.

The mother sat on the edge of the bed, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on the wooden walls. She pulled the worn blanket up to her son’s chin and smiled.

— In ancient times, she whispered, stroking the child’s hair, long before our kingdoms rose, the world was a place of pure magic where five great forces lived in harmony: humans, elves, dwarves, orcs, and draconoids.

The child snuggled under the blanket, captivated by the story.

But there was a sixth kingdom. A kingdom exactly opposite the other five, born of negation and void, existing in the spaces between worlds: the Abyss.

The Abyss was not a place, but an absence. Not a thing, but the lack of all things. And within this negation lived an entity that ancient texts call Azoth, the Star-Eater.

Azoth had coveted our bright world from the depths of his dark prison. He watched the five races with envy. For millennia, he sought a way to cross the barrier between worlds. Through endless attempts, he devised a plan as cunning as it was evil!

Through the dreams of mortals, Azoth whispered promises of power. He planted seeds of doubt and discord. "Why share this world?" he murmured. "Why not rule alone?"

A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room through the small window.

The Five Kingdoms began to quarrel. Wars broke out. In the chaos, the guardians of the artifacts let their guard down. And that was when Azoth struck.

A fissure opened between our world and the Abyss. Barely wider than a hair, but enough for Azoth to slip a fragment of his essence through it. That essence took form in our reality—a black mist that devoured everything in its path, turning life into nothingness.

The Kings and Elders of each kingdom realized the threat too late. They ended their quarrels and united their forces. They managed to contain the breach using the power of the five artifacts, but the victory was incomplete: they could never fully seal it.

To protect their people from this calamity, each returned to their kingdom, taking one of the artifacts that had stopped Azoth with them.

Humans chose the fertile plains and built great cities. Elves settled in the eternal forests. Dwarves carved their fortresses into the mountains. Orcs claimed the volcanic lands of the south. And dragons soared to the inaccessible peaks of the north.

But the Abyss remained. A dark wound at the border of the kingdoms, growing slowly, inexorably, year after year, century after century...

Her voice grew deeper, almost a whisper.

The Elders predicted that one day, the Abyss would grow enough to threaten all kingdoms again. They foretold that in those dark times, an exceptional being would be born, gifted with a power long forgotten: mastery over gravity—the fundamental force that binds all things and all beings.

This master of gravity would have the power to bend space itself, defy the laws of nature, and perhaps even close the breach between worlds. But the prophecy also carried a warning: Azoth knew of it too and would do everything to find this child before we could.

The woman paused, watching the child’s wide eyes fixed on her. She gently ran her thumb along the little cheek.

That is why we must always remain vigilant. That is why the Abyss hunters patrol tirelessly at the borders. That is why we teach this story to each generation...

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. The shadow of her face stretched along the wall, like a protective presence wrapping the child.

But always remember this: if you see shadow spreading where light should reign, if you hear whispers promising power and glory… beware. For it could be Azoth, the Star-Eater, seeking to tempt you.

And now, sleep, my child. Tomorrow is another day, and the darkness is still far from our home.

The child’s eyes shone in the dim light.

“Mom… is this story true?”

The mother’s face froze for a moment, then she smiled tenderly.

“Unfortunately, yes… But don’t worry, your father and I will always be here to protect you.”

“Now go to bed! Tomorrow you need to be rested.”

The woman kissed the child’s forehead and blew out the candle… The room plunged into darkness, only the patter of rain on the roof breaking the silence. Thunder rumbled, echoing the ancient times she had just described.