Before there was shape, before there was word, there was Time — endless, measureless, flowing in all directions at once.
And with Time came Night, the first great veil, stretching wide and silent over the nothing that was everything.

From Time and Night came the Endless.

First was Destiny, who walked his garden in blind certainty, carrying the book that holds all things, even the book itself.
Then came Death, patient and kind, who greets all that live and guides all that end.

In the moment between life and loss, Dream opened his eyes.
He built palaces of thought and kingdoms of vision where mortals and gods wander in slumber.

But Dream did not wake alone.

From the same breath, the same thread of Night’s shadow and Time’s inevitability, his twin emerged.

Dark.
Where Dream spun color and light, Dark gathered stillness and shadow.
Not absence, but the keeper of what light leaves behind.
The two were bound in a balance older than stars, though Dream chose the realms of men while Dark lingered in the halls between moments.

After them came Destruction, with his strong hands and booming laugh, building even as he broke.
Then Desire, as bright and sharp as a blade’s edge, and Despair, who was her reflection in a cracked mirror.
Last was Delight, whose laughter painted the air in colors never before imagined, unbroken and unafraid.

They are the Endless.
Older than gods, older than worlds, older than the story of “before.”
And this is the tale of the one who has waited the longest in the dark.

( I don't own any of the characters other than Dark, the rest belong to DC and the cover is The Void from marvel, this is AU so some things are changed like personalities of some of the endless )

Human cruelty is a spectacle like no other.Yet even that spectacle fades, loses its edge over time.


A necromancer in some forgotten corner of existence tortures his own family. Not with words, but with spells that shred flesh and soul alike.


I listen to their cries, but I do not feel pity.


Humans. So unpredictable, tangled in the wild dance of instinct and fear.


They are primal, raw, and utterly… disgusting.


Their cruelty once entertained me — a harsh but vivid reminder of the chaos beneath the stars.


The dull ache of boredom spreads like cold ash beneath my skin. No shadow, no silence can soothe it.


From my throne of abyss, where darkness gathers like thick smoke, I stand and stretch limbs woven from nothingness itself.


The vastness of Oblivion unfolds before me — endless, black, and empty.


Each step is familiar, guided by instinct older than stars. I navigate the dark with certainty, as if I were born from the void itself — because I was.


After time unmeasured, I arrive at my sanctuary.


Eight towering pillars rise from the abyss, each carved with a sigil glowing faintly in the darkness.


The open book of Destiny — a reminder that all is written, even what is not yet known.


The gentle ankh of Death — soft but unyielding, the end and the beginning entwined.


The shimmering helm of Dream — a kingdom of light and shadow, forever weaving stories.


The mighty hammer of Destruction — force and change bound in a single, heavy stroke.


The sharp, gleaming eye of Desire — flame and hunger in eternal motion.


The cracked mirror of Despair — a fractured soul reflecting endless sorrow.


The vibrant butterfly of Delight — laughter and light scattering in iridescent trails.


And the empty space that belongs only to me — the void itself.


I reach out with a hand that is both nothing and all things.


My fingers close around Destruction's hammer.


The weight is a promise — of endings and beginnings, of chaos and order.


Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: The Call of the Hammer