Before the last Monarch fell… before the Shadow rose…
There was a silence between wars.
Not peace, only exhaustion.
The Monarchs had slaughtered.The Rulers had countered.Worlds burned, rebuilt, and burned again.
In this endless spiral, a quiet rebellion began but not in fire or thunder, but in thought.
Among the Rulers, three remained apart. They did not speak of domination. They questioned purpose.
"If we exist to protect balance, why do we demand submission?"
"If mortals must die for our victory, what are we saving?"
These three turned away from the throne of light and met in the shadows of unmade realms.
There, they built something forbidden.
Not a weapon.Not a soul.Not a ruler or monarch.
A covenant.
A sealed construct of intent, memory, and ancient will.Not tied to light.Not born of darkness.
An anchor.A choice.A contingency.
A final Accord.
It would not awaken for a king.It would not serve the strong.
Only one untouched by either side could find it, and only when the world forgot what balance truly meant.
Then, other Rulers hunted them. Erased their names. Burned their memory from the war.
But the Accord survived.
Sleeping, somewhere beneath the fractures of Earth's fabric.Unseen. Unfelt.Waiting.
And when it is found…
When the one-who-should-not-be-chosen stumbles into that forgotten light…The Accord will whisper.
And across the veil, beneath the skin of forgotten starsSomething will begin to stir.
They do not breathe.They do not bleed.But they remember.
Helms sealed in oathlight.Blades etched with names long lost.Armor heavy not with weight, but with promises unbroken.
They wait.Still as constellations.Bound by one unspoken command…
…that has not yet been spoken.
It was not meant to rule.It was meant to remember.
And soon — to return.