A Timeless voice
The Emergence of Darktavian
Darktavian was not a creation of my hand, but rather a figure who surfaced as though summoned by fate itself. He appeared in the recesses of my mind at the dawn of my story’s unfolding, fully formed and waiting—an ancient tale poised to be witnessed. His name, like the story, was not something I forged; it existed long before my consciousness recognized it. All that was required of me was to observe, listen, and let the words flow. For five years now, I have done exactly that—attuning myself to the narrative that lives within me, recording the journey as it unveils, step by step, scene by scene, line by line, dream by dream.
The story’s emergence is an effortless current, one that sweeps through both mind and heart with profound force, as though it has always been there, etched into the very marrow of my being. Each word, each unfolding moment, feels more like an ancient truth being revealed than something I create. The interconnected threads that bind these tales are too wondrous, too powerful to remain locked away. They beckon to be shared with the world, not for the sake of mere storytelling, but because the magic and gravity within them demand it.
But who is Darktavian? While it may serve as my pen name, Darktavian is far more—he is the voice, the unseen narrator guiding the threads of the tale I have been entrusted to reveal. His energy resonates deeply with my own, and the alignment feels far from coincidence. Upon reflection, I found it no small matter that my own middle name initials are “D T.” It was as if, after thirty-five years, Darktavian had always been waiting to emerge from within the hidden chambers of my soul.
He is a resolute warrior, his heart bound to all that is pure, knightly, and to those who lack a voice. Yet within him burns a deep, near-bloodthirsty disdain for the corrupt and the cruel—a fire as fierce as his devotion to inspiring beauty across the star-lit expanse. His reverence for the natural world is profound, ever-present, and enigmatic; he knows that each blade of grass, each whisper of wind, and every faint smile is woven from threads of wonder, with gratitude as a close companion to the forces that shape the countless fabrics of existence. In the end, these countless realities merge into one—a consciousness alive in the boundless reaches of unending space. And space itself, vast as it seems, may be nothing but an idea forever unfolding, a span of trillions of light years that exists only as far as divine imagination and belief dares to stretch.
More than just a name for the world to know me by, Darktavian feels like an echo of something far older—perhaps even the name of my soul from a time beyond the veils of normal understanding, from a life millennia’s long—where my soul still roams, immortal plains from where my stories are born.
