A child was born, upon a dark day of which the clouds high above roared with the rages of war. The battle between heaven and hell, which rained ash upon the lands below. A blackened heart, which was brought into existence without the use of a fathering being. The mother had died, from the birth of this child. For the strain was too much, since the child was conceived with the essence of a forsakened soul. The young boy, raised in the midst of nothingness, alone with only himself to comfort the struggles of survival. Years went by, the child growing stronger and more wise to what was set around him. Learning of talents that belonged to him, from birth. He was sure he was not a mortal being, and didn’t understand the factors of why he was more skilled than usual children.

Around the age of 16, the boy was resting by his lonesome, like usual. When he was awakened by a calling of a voice. A sound, not heard as male or female. But the boy was able to see a darkened figure knelt at his side. He was beyond fear, for such emotion grew weakened over the years of studying and enduring injuries. Battles of which were lost or won, and time of which he spent away from gathering people. The figure rested a hand upon the boy, and spoke with a steady tone. It said.. “Young Dingir, born never knowing why you existed.. Not knowing why you are, as you are.. Knowing only that you have gifts that are some what, freakish.“ The child knew not of his own name, but listened intentively. He had always questioned his life, wondering why things were as they were.

The figure went on, explaining the details of unknown answers to which the child was oblivious to until this fateful night. Once all was defined, the child, now known as Dingir.. Was given an offer he could not refuse… The figure lastly said, and was agreed with when such words were spoken. “No longer, my child, will you have to feel the suffering of your life.. Become, what is in your right to be.. A warlock, embraced by me..”

That night, was the last of which Dingir saw of this figure. The final hour, of which he was a child. For from that point on, he was an adult. The changing, tempered his entire essence. Regardless of this, he was granted the wisdom of his ancestors. Along with this new gift, Dingir had received a blessing from his finally known father, Marukka, which held his age in stillness. Time had no toll upon him no more, as he would forever remain as a youthful adult. Embraced with the knowledge of a dark book, left with him by his father. A vast amount of information, giving him the lessons he needed to be what he was. In tribute to the gifts he received from his father, Dingir created caverns. A place of which was for him to remember, for him to linger within. And in thanks to what had been done for him that night, such caverns were in the name of his father… But from those days onward, remain in darkness.. For it seemed, Dingir vanished… Until now..