A Timeless voice.
The Emergence of Darktavian
Darktavian was not a creation of my hand, but 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, to listen, and to 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 reveals itself: step by step, scene by scene, line by line, dream by dream.
The story’s emergence has never felt like invention, but like remembering. It flows with effortless force, sweeping through mind and heart alike—as though it has always been there, etched into the marrow of my being. Each word, each unfolding moment, feels less like something I create, and more like an ancient truth being unearthed. The interconnected threads that bind this world are too wondrous, too charged, to remain locked away. They beckon to be shared—not for the sake of storytelling alone, but because the magic and gravity within them demand it.
But who is Darktavian? While it may serve as my pen name, he is far more than that. He is the voice—the unseen narrator guiding the threads of the tale I’ve been entrusted to reveal. His energy resonates with my own in ways that feel anything but accidental. In time, I came to realize it was no small matter that my middle initials are “D.T.” David, the first, I often use; the second, beginning with T, remains rarely spoken. It was as if, after thirty-five years, Darktavian had always been waiting to emerge from 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 near-bloodthirsty disdain for the corrupt and the cruel—a fire as fierce as his devotion to beauty. His reverence for the natural world is constant, enigmatic. He knows that each blade of grass, each whisper of wind, every faint smile, is woven from threads of wonder. Gratitude walks beside him, hand in hand with the forces that shape the many-layered fabrics of existence.
In the end, these countless realities converge into one—a consciousness alive across the boundless reaches of unending space. And space itself, vast as it may seem, may be nothing more than an idea forever unfolding—a span of trillions of light-years that exists only as far as divine imagination 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 spirit still roams, in immortal plains from which these stories are born.
From this inward genesis, the myth gave way to form.
What began as a presence whispering through the marrow of silence soon took shape within the world of the tale itself.
Darktavian was the first to emerge—not merely from within me, but within the mythos of The Dance of Force. A figure born of strength, duality, and transcendence. His journey embodies the very essence of this saga: stoicism, transformation, and the eternal interplay of shadow and light.
It was his story that sparked the creation of the entire series. Though his full tale will unfurl in later volumes (between Books 5 and 9), fragments of his presence ripple subtly through the foundational volumes of the saga—offering glimpses of the profound role he is destined to play in its grander melody.
This character resonated so deeply with me that I adopted his name as my own. Darktavian is more than a figure on the page—he is the embodiment of the series’ heart: the tension between silence and flame, between the brilliance we reach for and the darkness we must walk through to claim it.
