Once, Nezo was a place of peace.
Nestled between silver rivers and whispering pines, the town lay hidden like a secret jewel in the Netherlands. Its people lived simple lives.bakers, teachers, children playing hopscotch on cobbled streets. They never questioned why the night air sometimes shimmered, or why the moon over Nezo was always full.
Because long ago, before maps named it, Nezo was a sanctuary. A cradle for the mystical.
Witches brewed cider in hidden groves. Werewolves patrolled the forests like silent guardians. Vampires kept to the shadows, bound by sacred law. And the rarest of all the Hieds, protectors immune to darkness watched from afar, pretending to be nothing more than myth.It worked... for a while.
But peace is a fragile thing. And in the 1970s, it shattered.
It began with blood.The Vampire Prince,young, hungry, arrogant,sank his fangs into the wrong throat: the Luna of the werewolf clan. Her death cracked open an ancient grudge, and what followed was chaos.
The werewolf king, grieving and enraged, broke the Pact of Shadows and declared war on the vampire houses. Some wolves blamed him for loving a human, believing her blood had weakened their line. But pride and pain are louder than reason.
The vampires retaliated.
They came in waves,elegant, brutal, merciless.
They stopped hiding,And humans?They were caught in between Terrified and Helpless.
Some chose sides.
They took the blood, ripped their hearts from their chests, and rose again some as wolf some as vampire.
Others fled to the witches, begging for spells, for protection.
The witches answered with two ancient leaves:
Cider—deadly to vampires.
Vider—to burn werewolves from the inside out.
And for a while, humans fought back.
Silver bullets dipped in witch magic.
Wooden stakes buried in vampire hearts.
Their enemies fell... and rose again.
But there were deeper shadows.
Creatures warped by rage and magic.
Beings that should not exist.
They were called the Corrupted—monsters twisted from once-pure bloodlines.
No one knew where they came from.
Only that they followed an unseen force...
A Devourer.
Some say he was once a Hied,one of the last.
Others believe he was born from the grave of a murdered myth.
What is certain is this:He feeds on power. And he never truly left.
The war left Nezo bleeding,
Its streets charred, its people broken.
Supernaturals disappeared into legend.
Humans forgot or pretended to.
And so, the town grew quiet again.
But myths never die,They sleep.
Present day
At Nezo High, it was just another Monday. The bell rang too early, the halls buzzed with teenage drama, and teachers pretended not to notice when students dozed off mid-lecture.
In the corner of the hallway, Gordon adjusted his hoodie and kept his head down. He hated mornings almost as much as he hated attention. At sixteen, he was invisible by choice,average grades, no sports, no clubs. Just another face in a school full of louder people.
That didn't stop the bullies.
"Hey, watch it, silver boy," one sneered, slamming Gordon's locker shut just as he reached for his books. "Forgot your leash again?"
Laughter erupted behind him. Gordon said nothing. His fists clenched, but he didn't move.
Then came the voice.
"Touch him again, and I'll break your wrist."
It wasn't loud. It didn't have to be.
Angela.
She stood just behind Gordon, arms crossed, eyes blazing with smirk mixed fury. Her long braid swung like a whip behind her, and her stance radiated calm threat. She wasn't too tall but slim and elegant, very pretty and all confident,the kind of girl who didn't need backup.
The bully raised a brow. "You gonna fight for your him now?"
She stepped forward.
"No," she said sweetly. "I'll fight for fun."
Something in her smile made them back off. They always did.
Once the hallway cleared, Gordon turned to her. "You didn't have to do that."
Angela shrugged. "Yeah, well… I hate seeing people cornered."
She looked at him then, truly looked. "You've got something, you know. Some kind of quiet fire."(smirked)
Gordon flushed, eyes dropping. "I'm just… normal."
Her gaze lingered. "If you say so."
They walked toward class together in silence, but something between them had shifted. Angela's steps were steady. Gordon's heart wasn't.
He'd never told anyone what happened that night a year ago,the fall down the stairs that should've shattered bones but didn't. How he'd landed weightless, as if the air had caught him.
Not even Cynthia, his sister.
but only his best friend Sam who would believe anything, but never asked the right questions.
No one else knew, and he planned to keep it that way. Because being different in Nezo was dangerous.
Myths had a way of coming back to life.
And Gordon?He wasn't ready to believe he was part of one.
Not yet.