The Deep Tomb

In the time before memory, when gods roamed the cosmos, and the fate of mortals hung in the balance, a cataclysm known as The Divergence shook the foundations of the realms. The aftermath left behind a fractured world, scarred by divine strife and haunted by the specter of civilizations cast aside by capricious deities. It was in this maelstrom of despair and shared suffering that the mortals, united by the weight of their collective grief, forged The Deep Tomb—a sepulcher to house the remnants of fallen civilizations and to defy the whims of the divine.
The origins of The Deep Tomb are shrouded in the echoes of an ancient pact, a covenant born from the ashes of the fractured world. In the wake of The Divergence, nations and peoples, once disparate and divided, found a fleeting unity in the face of shared sorrow. Their lands lay in ruin, their cultures extinguished, and their gods, if they still lingered, remained indifferent to the plight of the forsaken. It was in this crucible of despair that the vision of a final resting place, a sanctuary for the fallen, coalesced into reality.
The construction of The Deep Tomb unfolded as a solemn collaboration—an endeavor transcending borders and rivalries. The shattered remnants of empires long past, each with its unique history and tales of glory, were collected and interred within the depths of the earth. Burdened by the weight of collective sorrow, the mortals erected a vast necropolis, a testament to their defiance against the divine callousness. Sealed and protected by artifacts of immeasurable power, The Deep Tomb became an impregnable vault—a hollow where the echoes of the damned found their eternal repose.
At the heart of this subterranean realm, anointed as the ruler of the forsaken, stood the man once known as Cassius Assarad; now called The White King. Once a mortal of renown in a bygone era, Cassius was chosen to preside over the crypt as the Keeper of the Damned. He willingly embraced his role, understanding that in death, he would serve as the steward of civilizations forsaken by the gods. However, as the tomb embraced him in its cold, earthen embrace, ancient magics and enigmatic dark powers intertwined with his very essence, transforming him into something beyond the ken of mortals.
Cassius, now neither fully living nor truly dead, emerged from the burial chamber reborn—an entity of shadow and malevolence. The once-human keeper became an embodiment of the collective anguish that permeated the tomb. His eyes, once vibrant with mortal essence, now glowed with an unholy radiance, and his form bore the weight of eons. With the transformation came an understanding—an awareness of the souls that lingered in the depths, yearning for release yet eternally bound to the crypt.
Beside Cassius stood his bride, Thyri, Queen of Lost Souls—a spectral companion born from the ethereal mists that veiled the corridors of The Deep Tomb. Her presence, an echo of the sorrowful brides of ancient myth, bestowed an otherworldly grace upon the realm of the damned. Together, Cassius and Thyri became the sovereigns of the shadows, their dominion extending over the labyrinthine tunnels and chambers that housed the forsaken remnants of bygone civilizations.
The Deep Tomb, an epitaph for the fallen, became a tapestry of sorrow and malevolence. The walls whispered with the laments of forgotten realms, the cries of the wronged, and the echoes of curses cast aside by deities who had long ceased to care. The vaults, adorned with the relics of lost cultures, bore witness to the tragic tales etched in stone and shadow. The wails of the damned reverberated through the winding passages, each step a descent into the abyss of collective despair.
Within The Deep Tomb, time moved at a languid pace, indifferent to the eons that passed in the realms above. Cassius, now a spectral lord, navigated the ethereal currents of the tomb's dark magic, his will entwined with the souls that called it home. The artifacts of immeasurable power, once mere guardians of the forsaken, became extensions of Cassius's dominion—imbued with the essence of the forgotten and the betrayed.
As the Keeper of the Damned, Cassius wielded the shadows like a sorcerer of ages past. He could summon the shades of ancient warriors to form spectral legions, their ethereal weapons clashing in the cavernous depths. The very walls responded to his command, shaping themselves into ominous murals that depicted the tragic narratives of the interred. The air itself carried the whispers of the forsaken, recounting tales of lost empires and vanquished glory.
Cassius's reign within The Deep Tomb was both a curse and a mantle of power. The tortured souls, their identities obscured by the passage of time, became his subjects in perpetuity. The realm, once intended as a sanctuary, transformed into a prison where the echoes of grief became an eternal chorus. Yet, even as the shadows clung to the crypt's every recess, Cassius felt a semblance of purpose—a twisted duty to safeguard the memories of the forgotten and to revel in the malevolent symphony that echoed through the vaults.
The Deep Tomb, a necropolis conceived in unity and defiance, became a testament to the boundless capacities of sorrow. Cassius and Thyri, now the spectral sovereigns of this cryptic domain, watched over the forsaken with a gaze both pitiless and compassionate. Their realm, veiled in darkness and draped in the