The Wyrd
The Wyrd is not a native thing.
So long ago that only the Dreamers remember, an Ancient Mother found the world in its emptiness. She found it cold, she found it barren of the hated binding metal - she found it to her liking.
In the space of mere human breaths she burrowed deep within the world, laying at the world's deepest her Egg, what Dreamers call the Egg of An. Little caring that those who inhabited the womb of her progeny would perish in its cataclysmic birth millenia hence when the cold had done its work and incubated the Twins within, the Ancient Mother left, content in her work.
Intention, however, is not the same thing as History, and when the Iron Star fell from the sky in a thousand pieces, the Dreamers say that the sky lit up as a thousand torches, as if a great phoenix was born. Deep within the womb that was the world, the Egg of An stirred in hatred, for the hated binding metal that we call iron was the hard and unbending core of the Iron Star.
The descent of the Iron Star burned the sky and the earth alike, and what was once frozen became bathed in a new bitter summer. Though cold still by human thought, to the Egg of An the new temperature burned harshly, slowing its inevitable incubation. The Egg of An cracked as one of the Twins, she who would become known as the Bright Raven, within died in agony, her blood leaking into the earth about it.
But the progeny of the Egg of An is not so easily expunged, and the blood of the Bright Raven in death had consciousness and will. In another time, her will might have faded, but the binding metal iron joined with it in bits and pieces, carried her pieces to the far corners of the earth as man and beast, plant and totem made of sacred iron held the Bright Raven's consciousness to it.
The amount in the iron of a beast was small, rarely enough to mark any true consciousness, but the amount in totems or men was enough for simple consciousness, and the consciousness that was there - that wyrd - hungered to join together until it would again, someday, be whole, and make the world the cold place needed to incubate its restless, slumbering brother.
The Wyrd
The Wyrd is bound by iron, especially the iron in blood. The Wyrd calls to Wyrd, for the Bright Raven wants nothing so much as to join again into one, to gain a glimpse of the consciousness that is both her birthright and the world's doom. The Wyrd can feel its pieces in others, and can work with those pieces to affect the world, though its reach is stunted and frustrated by the binding metal, iron.
As the Wyrd calls to itself, so too will the Wyrd in a man or woman strong in Wyrd call to other Wyrd around it, slowly gathering more to itself until that man or woman is suffocating in the strength of the Wyrd.
The devotion and dedication of others will bleed their Wyrd to the object of their devotion, should that one have the capacity for that devotion, and in so doing, both great and terrible things may be born.
The Dreamers
Where the Wyrd gathers strongest, its will and consciousness grow stronger, and it calls, beguiles, begs and threatens. Its memory is reflected in the waking dreams of its host, and the host will see the intentions and knowledge of the Wyrd in the form of powerful visions.
The Sorcerers
Though all righteous men and women seek to stave off the inevitable doom of the world as long as possible, some in their selfishness seek power or knowledge and find ways to align themselves with the will of the Wyrd that collects within them. Foolish are they, for though the Wyrd can be tricked, threatened or negotiated with, when that sorcerer encounters one in which the Wyrd is stronger, their own Wyrd will be wont to betray them, for in the sorcerer's death, the Wyrd might join with that other fount of Wyrd, and step that much closer to true consciousness.
It is said that the one who allies themself with the Wyrd within them must face their Wyrd in their own shape, must promise or bargain with their Wyrd, must convince it that they will spill more blood, free more Wyrd, gather more of the Bright Raven's scattered consciousness to themself and in so doing gain its influence and aid over the world and those around them. If the Wyrd within a man or woman accepts such a relationship, that one will cease to dream in the way of Dreamers, but will receive visions only in their own form, and only as the Wyrd speaks to them, demands the fulfillment of promises made and oaths bled for.
It is said that many who would become sorcerers, and many more who have crossed over to that path have taken to drinking blood in an effort to gather to their bosom yet more of the scattered Wyrd that is the blood of the Bright Raven.
The Gods
Some among the earliest of the sorcerers learned the greatest secret; when enough Wyrd was gathered into one body, that body would become a sacred vessel. Both more and less than sorcerer, the consciousness of the sorcerer would become the subconscious, while the Wyrd would become the consciousness. Each such collection of Wyrd would be colored by their now-subconscious identity, by the sleeping dreams of the sorcerer who they had been, and would jealousy guard their rightful destiny as the future vessel of the Bright Raven.
In so doing, though some of these who would be called and worshipped as gods by others might work together, none would trust the others, each thinking itself to be the true ultimate vessel, each demanding of the others that they sacrifice their own vessel and join with it.
The Shak
But what of the Soulless? What of the blood-feeders who are not sorcerers, but must feed upon the Wyrd for their sustenance?
The first Shak were either cannibals or sorcerers, or perhaps both. In a method perfected over centuries, the would-be Shak trains the body to digest and feed upon not the blood itself of their prey so much as the Wyrd contained within it. In even minute amounts, a body starved of its proper food and denied the warmth of the sun above will turn to the only food available to it - the Wyrd.
The Wyrd as sustenance is a cruel thing, however, and though it tempers the body and renders it both firm and supple, though it banishes the scourge of age and disease, so too it gives a neverending hunger for more Wyrd. It uses the Wyrd's hungering for itself to hunt, then consuming the Wyrd, feeding upon it until it is no more. Rapacious hunters of the living, in ages past before the rise of the great City of Shadow, the city of Dardalani, the Shak devoured the living at their will, feasting on both meat and blood in form, but in truth feasting upon the Wyrd of their prey.
The Four
It has not happened since, but four among the gods, starving and hungry were forced to sustain themselves on nothing but blood. In so doing, they became something neither god nor Shak, but something in between. Hated and banished by their brethren, they went apart, worshipped only by the Shak, bent on some strange plan known only to them.
The City of Shadow
Dardalani, the City of Shadow, was birthed by the Five, who in the steps of the Four built a city upon an island in the Daventhiel River, a city where the Shak would not be hunted but would instead farm lesser men as food, would marshal them into armies of slave-soldiers and demand tribute from those about them.