Prologue
They say the cosmos began not with fire, but with a Verse — a command so absolute it split the dark from the divine.
But no one speaks of what happens when a Verse is broken.
On the 9,771st recorded cycle, a Name vanished from the Ledger — not erased by man, nor stolen by devils, but forgotten by Fate itself.
The Divine Ledger did not record events as they happened.
It dictated them.
To be named in its verses was to exist.
To be unwritten… was to rot in memory's grave.
He awoke to silence.
Not the silence of sleep.
The silence of nonbeing.
Above him: white void.
Below: a stone floor etched with glowing silver threads—stories—each pulling away from him like they feared contagion.
He touched nothing.
No line.
No story.
No fate.
He rose on shaking feet.
People passed. They did not see him. Their lips moved, reciting lines not their own, eyes glazed as they followed their threads.
He whispered, "Who… am I?"
And in the vast hush of that question, something in the Ledger trembled.
A ripple.
A flaw.
A corruption.
---
And so began the life of Azrien Kael — not a chosen one, but a flaw. A ripple in a perfect story. The one who was not written... and who would rewrite them all.