Five centuries ago, the lands now fractured under petty disputes shivered beneath the iron grip of the Zevrath Dominion. Their armies surged like rivers of shadow and steel, banners snapping in the wind like the cries of the condemned. Custodes and Praetors commanded legions with precision honed by cruelty, their mere presence bending cities and kings alike.
Among them was a figure whispered in dread — an Aethernal, a shadow among shadows. He moved with preternatural grace, leaving devastation in his wake, yet his loyalty was pledged not to dominion or conquest, but to something older, forbidden, a force so ancient that men dared not speak its name.
The war that scarred the world had begun over a relic older than kingdoms — a shard of power capable of bending wills and awakening the slumbering. Cities became pyres, rivers ran red, and betrayal moved like a living thing. Vanguards fell, Dominuses schemed, and Ascendants shattered foes with a terrifying ease. Every heartbeat echoed fear; every shadow hid death.
In the Dominion's twilight, as Ascendants and Aethernals clashed in ambition and suspicion, a darkness stirred beyond control. Entire fortresses vanished into flames; regiments were swallowed as though devoured by the earth itself. Survivors spoke in whispers, their minds fractured by horrors too vast for words.
From these ashes, a boy would be born — unknown, unremarkable in appearance, yet carrying within him the latent potential of the forbidden. The Umbra whispered in shadows, measuring and waiting, eyes fixed on a spark that could one day blaze brighter than the dominion itself.
Centuries later, in a village embraced by rolling hills and a silver river, that boy's life would begin. Eldenbrook was serene, fragile, and fleeting — morning sunlight gilded timbered roofs, laughter wove through cobblestone streets, and the scent of baking bread floated on the crisp air. Yet even here, the drumbeat of fate had begun.
Beyond the hills, forests and mountains teemed with predators, Obsidian Crossings hid spies, and distant Dominuses weighed the tides of power. Somewhere, unseen, the Umbra waited, patient, knowing the boy would soon step from chains into a world that would test every shard of courage, skill, and cunning within him.
And yet, even in the quiet innocence of Eldenbrook, whispers of a system older than most dynasties lingered. Among the shadows of Velthryn and other estates, titles like Novus, Disciplus, Vigilant, and Auctor were not just names — they were marks of ability, cunning, and potential. Few knew their exact measure, and fewer still understood the path from Novus to Ascendant or the rare, whispered rank of Aethernal, reserved for legends who could bend fate itself.
This is where it begins — a tale of blood and fire, chains and freedom, ambition and shadows. A boy, born among the innocent, destined to rise in a world far darker, more vast, and more treacherous than any riverbank of Eldenbrook could ever hint.
--