1" Stainless Steel Necklace With Rope
 
Varkuun — The Ash-Born Ravager
 
Varkuun was not born of sorrow, nor raised by oath or prayer. It emerged when the Codex first discovered that some truths survive erasure. Fire failed. Silence failed. Memory returned wearing new names.
 
So the Codex shaped a thing that does not end stories — it prevents their continuation.
 
Varkuun is a predator without symbol. Its wings are torn not from battle, but from use — built for violent distance rather than sky. Its jaws do not burn. They close. Its claws do not rend flesh alone; they tear meaning from the world, leaving nothing behind that can be mourned.
 
Where the Shriekwing announces ruin and the Stone Watcher records it, Varkuun arrives only when the Codex has decided that nothing must remain to witness.
 
Those hunted by Varkuun do not scream. The sound never forms. Their shadows flee first, peeling away from the body as if seeking escape. When the Ravager departs, there are no corpses, no ghosts, no names to carve. Even the Codex’s ink thins where it has passed, as though reluctant to remember.
 
Varkuun does not linger. It does not revel. It does not hunger endlessly.

It hunts until the Codex’s silence is complete.
 
Known Signs:
Ground fissures shaped like claw scars long before impact
Silence that does not feel empty, but stalked
Corpses without wounds — only absence
Shadows that flee toward the light
 
“Do not chronicle its passing.
If the Ravager is named too clearly,
it may return to finish the sentence.”