Prologue...
A long, long time ago, before there were tiding oceans, before there were stars, before the Earth, before anything at all, there were two sisters.
Moren and Roa.
They were not like us. They were not even like the old gods you've heard about in stories. They were older than all of that — beings from far beyond the edges of everything we know. Some called them the Outer Gods, but they were simply… sisters.
One was Moren, the goddess of darkness, death, and nightfall. Her hair was black as the endless void, and wherever she walked, the stars dimmed, and decay followed. The other was Roa, the goddess of light, hope, and rebirth. Her glow was warm and golden, and when she smiled, it was said that the first sparks of life were born.
One day, while wandering the endless emptiness together, the sisters stumbled upon something strange — a place where nothing yet existed, but could. A silent, sleeping universe.
And they loved it.
So the two sisters decided to make it their home. To fill the nothingness with something. But to do so, they had to give up a part of themselves. Each sister placed a fragment of herself into the heart of the new universe. The rest of their power… fell into deep slumber, waiting far beyond the edges of time.
From the pieces they left behind came the first lights in the sky — the stars, the moons, the breath of creation itself.
For a time, they were happy. They watched their new universe take shape, and they thought they would always build it together. But as the ages passed, Moren and Roa began to disagree on what should come next.
Moren wanted a world where her creations — beings of shadow and spirit — would be free, untouched, and unchallenged. But Roa… Roa had other ideas. She quietly went behind her sister's back and made something else. Something new.
She made life.
Her creations were fragile and small compared to Moren's, but they burned bright with warmth, curiosity, and hope. They were her pride.
However when Moren discovered this, her heart filled with anger and sadness. She thought they had promised to build everything together. To her, Roa's secret creations were a betrayal she couldn't forgive.
And so, the two sisters fought.
For Eons to come, space itself trembled as they battled, each sister trying to protect the future they believed in. Moren, with her shadows, her storms, and her spirits of night. Roa, with her fires, her radiance, and her fragile living things.
In the end… it was Moren who won.
But victory did not bring her joy. With Roa shattered, as gods could not be killed, Moren finally had what she wanted...a world where her creations could roam free. And yet… without her sister, the universe felt colder. Empty.
Loneliness came for Moren then, darker than even the endless dark. With no one left to talk to, to argue with, to love… she withdrew from the universe she had fought so hard to shape. She placed herself into Derase, an eternal dreamless sleep, and has never awakened since.
And so the world moved on, filled with the children left behind.
Moren's children — the Outcasts, born of shadow and spirit.
Roa's children — the Humans, fragile but burning with light.
Two creations, two origins, living side by side in a world neither goddess would ever see again. For a long moment, there was silence. Then a small voice spoke up.
"So… that's how Outcasts and Humans came to be?"
Will sat curled up in his mother's lap, his little growing afro pressed against her chest as she hummed softly, her hand resting on his shoulder, as her radiant golden hair tickled his cheek. She smiled faintly and kissed the top of his head.
"That's how the ancestors told it," she said gently, her voice quiet as a mouse, yet you would think an angel had spoken. "But no one truly knows. What do you think is true my little wolf?"
Will didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the oil painting across from them, two towering figures, one draped in darkness, the other wrapped in light. Opposites in every way… yet somehow, both beautiful.
---------------[Break]
Many years later...
The sun was warm over the sprawling 50-acre estate. The manor, all white stone and tall arched windows, gleamed under the clear morning sky.
Servants moved across the gardens and halls busying themselves with morning tasks. Gardeners trimmed the hedges, cooks hurried through back corridors, and a pair of maids worked together at the laundry, folding the young master's clothes.
"Are the uniforms pressed and ready?" asked the older maid, lifting her head from the stack of neatly pressed shirts.
The younger bright eyed maid nodded quickly, clear excitement on her face. "All set. I still can't believe the young master is finally leaving for school. Shouldn't he already be at the entrance, though? The car will be here soon."
The older maid gave a small sigh. "He wanted one last sparring session with the head butler. Said it will help to clear his nerves."
The younger giggled. "Clear his nerves? I remember the young master once wrestling a bear to submission, yet its the thought of going to school that breaks his nerve."
The older maid only shook her head with a smile. "You'll understand once you've seen the butler in action. Age hasn't dulled him one bit."
---
In the courtyard, the sound of steel reverberated across Flintlock Green.
[Note: Flintlock Green is the name of the sparring ring located in the centre of the manner.]
Will stood at the center, tall and broad for his young age, his frame already carved with muscle from years of disciplined training. His long-sleeved black shirt clung to him, the silver bracers on his forearms glinting as the sun caught them. His hair, shaped into a massive afro, fell low enough to shadow his eyes.
Across from him stood the head butler Albert. A tall, composed man in a pristine black buttleres uniform. A pocket watch gleamed in his vest pocket, and in his right hand he held a long silver bastard sword. He looked relaxed, though the subtle angle of his stance betrayed the sharp awareness of his opponent.
The two faced each other head on.
Will cracked his neck. "Ready?"
The butler smirked faintly. "I was born ready, young master. Don't hold back today."
"Wouldn't dream of it."