The Nullborn

Cloaked in fear and whispered legend, the Nullborn are the living remnants of Acedia’s shattered divinity—fragments of a dying god made flesh. Most of Vesperon distrusts them, for their very existence defies nature. Towering at six and a half feet, their jet-black skin glistens like oil under moonlight, and their luminous green eyes—slitted like a cat’s—pierce through darkness as if it were day. Where a mouth should be, a nest of restless tendrils twists in silent speech, for the Nullborn need neither food nor breath. They are sustained by something far more unsettling: Acedia’s song, a haunting melody that pulses through their veins, calling them to places where the veil between worlds grows thin.

To witness a Nullborn wield magic is to glimpse the arcane unfiltered. Their power is raw and mercurial, a reflection of Acedia’s fractured essence. Some say they weave spells by plucking the threads of reality itself; others claim their magic is merely the Inbetween leaking through. What is certain is that their settlements cling to these liminal spaces—crumbling ruins, lightless chasms, the hollows beneath dead trees—places others avoid instinctually.

Yet for all their prowess, the Nullborn are fragile. Their bodies, though imposing, are brittle. Survival demands artifice: intricate sign language woven with tendril gestures and written word, armor forged from enchanted void-silk, and a society built on secrets. Most embrace their connection to Acedia, but dissenters exist—those who fight the song’s pull, even seeking to sever it.

To encounter a Nullborn is to stand at the threshold of divine mysteries. Few dare to try. Those who do may learn truths about Acedia’s fall and the truth of divinity.