In the beginning, there was no sun, no moon.
No fire to burn, no shadow to rest.
Only balance.
Yin and Yang moved as one—two halves of a single breath, two rivers feeding the same ocean.
It was perfection.
It was eternity.
But Heaven does not love perfection.
Perfection cannot be ruled.
And so, the Dao of Balance was broken.
Yin was crowned the night. Yang, the day. One to heal, one to burn. One to guard, one to destroy.
Never again would they meet. Never again would the world know harmony.
The Dao that united them was declared forbidden. Its name was cut from scripture, its symbols buried, its seekers annihilated by Heaven's wrath.
The world forgot.
…But the Dao does not forget.
When the night bleeds into the day and the moon drowns the sun, whispers rise again. Whispers of the path erased, of power too dangerous to exist.
And when one dares to step upon it—lightning falls, worlds tremble, realms unite to kill the heretic.
For the Forbidden Dao is not peace.
It is not order.
It is the blade that severs both.
And one day, it will return.