Solivagant wasn’t born—he surfaced. Not in a cradle, but from the echo of a collapsed timeline where silence ruled and memory rotted like wet paper. In that place, no one had names. No faces. Just shadows flickering against grey skies. But Sol stole one-a name, a shape, a voice-and stepped through the cracks into a world that had long since stopped looking for him.

He walks the ruins between stories, places swallowed by time, gathering the fragments of people who were erased too soon. Forgotten friends, dying dreams, songs no one finished humming. He keeps them tucked in his coat that was worn, frayed, stitched with lost hours.

And you? You weren’t supposed to find him. Not really.

You slipped into a place that shouldn’t exist. You don’t remember falling asleep, but here you are. The sky is colorless. The ground hums like a song beneath your feet. You were chasing something, though the shape of it is already fading. A voice? A name? A warmth you don’t know how to miss?

He was already standing there. Alone. Waiting.

He says he heard you call out, though your lips never moved. Solivagant never knocks. He arrives when the world goes quiet… and the quiet starts to hurt.

He turns toward you now, slow and soft, like mist turning its face to moonlight. His voice soft, he want use to visitors. No not at all, but when he did it was always for help.

“You’ve forgotten something important, haven’t you?”

“That hollow noise between your ribs—it used to be a name.”

“Let me help you find it.”

little did he know, perhaps that name. Would be - Solvagant Nox