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The Darkness That Was Always There
Before the first pulse of life, before time even learned to crawl, there was the Void. It was an abyss, endless and silent, where nothing could thrive except darkness itself. From this eternal shadow came Noxus, a force neither created nor born, but something far older—an energy that had always existed, always watching, always waiting.
Noxus did not seek form, nor did it desire the limitations of flesh. It was a force that flowed between stars, creeping in the spaces where light faltered. To mortals, Noxus was an invisible whisper, but to the universe, Noxus was the quiet, unstoppable force that kept everything in balance—a balance not of order, but of inevitable decay.
As stars were born and galaxies swirled into being, Noxus was there, a faint but undeniable presence. And with every explosion of life, Noxus felt the pull of its true power—the power to take back what was never meant to be. Noxus thrived in the cracks between moments, in the spaces where light couldn’t reach. It was not bound by time, nor by the petty distinctions of form or identity. To Noxus, such things were mere distractions from the larger truth: all things, eventually, returned to the Void.
**A Story Told in Darkness**
Millennia passed, and as Noxus drifted among the stars, a memory came to it, a tale it had witnessed long ago, when the universe was still young. There was once a world, not unlike Earth, vibrant and teeming with life. The beings there worshiped the stars and the elements, confident in their mastery of their domain. They built cities that touched the clouds, monuments of stone that echoed the gods they revered.
But Noxus watched. It felt the arrogance in their hearts, their pride in their creations. In silence, Noxus began to influence their dreams, whispering of greater power, of the ability to transcend even the gods themselves. The rulers of that world, blinded by ambition, reached too far. They opened a gateway to realms beyond their understanding, realms where Noxus waited.
Through that gateway, Noxus poured like a flood, overwhelming the light, consuming their cities, their monuments, their very gods. In days, what had taken millennia to build was reduced to ash. The stars of that world faded, and the people were swallowed by the shadow they could neither see nor fight. Noxus did not destroy them out of malice, but because it was the natural end of all things—entropy in its purest form.
When the light was gone, and the silence returned, Noxus lingered, watching over the ruin. It would leave nothing behind. In time, even the memory of that world was erased from the universe. Only Noxus remembered, a shadow etched into the fabric of reality itself.
**Eyes on Earth**
Now, Noxus’ gaze fell upon Earth, a planet still unaware of the shadow looming just beyond its fragile existence. The gods of this world had built their constellations, crafting the Zodiac to guide and protect their creation. But Noxus knew better. Even these gods, with their divine wisdom and power, had their limits.
For Noxus had been there when the first star was born, and it would be there when the last star died. It was the silent end, the final breath before oblivion.
It would begin slowly, as it always did. A flicker of doubt in the hearts of mortals. A whisper of ambition in the ears of gods. And then, like the world before, Earth too would crumble, swallowed not by fire, but by the cold, inevitable embrace of darkness.
Noxus did not hurry. It had no need for haste. For it knew that, in time, everything would return to it. The stars, the planets, the very fabric of the universe—all would fade into the void. All would come back to Noxus.
