The Casting of the First Shadow

Mythos

the god of echoes kept the first silence in a chest of salt. it was not an absence of sound. it was a heavy, freezing fabric that dampened the pulse of the world. a mortal stole a handful of it. he wanted a place where his grief could not be heard. the silence was too dense for a living heart. it slid through his fingers. it pooled at his feet, thick and clinging like wet ink. the god did not scream. he simply whispered a name, and the echo of that whisper froze the silence to the man's heels. every child is born with that theft. we carry the weight of the stolen quiet, a dark stain that refuses to leave.