The continent of Astralis stretched like a scar across the world. From the northern cliffs to the scorched deserts of the south, it was a land marked by ancient wars and broken pacts, by unfulfilled prophecies and a starry sky that seemed to watch indifferently over the fate of mortals. Those who lived there claimed the stars had dictated the division of the continent: twelve kingdoms, each a reflection of the sign that ruled it. No land was ownerless, no sky without a banner. Astralis was a chessboard of war where every piece had a will of its own—and none was willing to yield.
In the north, the Kingdom of Capricorn rose among snowy mountains and cutting winds. Its fortresses seemed to grow from the very rock itself, unyielding against the passage of time. Its people were austere, patient, and as hard as the ice surrounding them. The king, an aged man with a stern gaze, ruled by a rigid code: everything was calculation, discipline, and sacrifice.
To the west, the Kingdom of Taurus protected its fertile plains behind cyclopean walls. It was a realm built to endure. Its cities were bastions of stone and iron, raised by the sweat of countless generations. The soldiers of Taurus were neither the fastest nor the brightest, but once they planted their feet on the battlefield, none would retreat even a single step.
Capricorn and Taurus shared a silent alliance: cold strategy and stubborn resistance, a double edge sharp enough to cut down even the mightiest of realms.
To the south burned the Kingdom of Aries, where war was the very pulse of life. Incandescent forges spewed weapons day and night, and children learned to wield a sword before they learned to read. The magic of Aries was an uncontrollable fire that consumed all in its path. The king, a man with a thunderous voice and muscles like steel, proclaimed that his people were destined to conquer Astralis.
Beyond it, beneath skies forever clear, the Kingdom of Leo shone like an eternal sun. Its golden temples and colossal columns stood as symbols of boundless pride. Its knights marched in flawless formation, clad in armor that reflected the light as though they were living flames. For Leo, war was not merely necessity: it was spectacle, a stage to display glory and supremacy.
Between Aries and Leo there existed a dangerous bond: allies at times, enemies at their core. Two flames that could unite to scorch the continent—or clash until nothing but ashes remained.
The seas belonged to two eternal rivals: the Kingdom of Cancer and the Kingdom of Pisces.
Cancer reigned with its colossal fleets, ships that seemed like floating fortresses. Its sailors were men weathered by storms and naval wars, capable of summoning tides to drag their enemies beneath the waves. Protected by cliffs and fortified bays, the kingdom thrived on commerce and maritime conquest.
Pisces, by contrast, was a realm of mysticism and enigmas. Its water temples rose among canals and cities drowned in mist. There, priests and seers wove prophecies, claiming that the threads of destiny could only be read in the deep waters. Their warriors were not the most numerous, but their illusory magic could bewilder entire armies, turning battles into nightmares.
The sea, too narrow for two ambitions, had become an open wound between them.
The Kingdom of Scorpio dwelled in caverns and deserts where light seldom reached. Its cities were tunnels of black stone, its weapons steeped in poison, and its oaths as fleeting as smoke. The King of Scorpio ruled with an invisible fist, sowing terror even among his own subjects. In Astralis, few trusted Scorpio—yet many feared it.
The Kingdom of Sagittarius, by contrast, had no walls and no fixed borders. Its troops were nomads, mounted archers who crossed steppes and forests like lightning. Wherever they rode, they left corpses. Wherever they vanished, they left fear. Sagittarius was the realm of movement—impossible to catch, impossible to subdue.
Between the two realms lay a mutual understanding: darkness and speed could rend apart even the most prepared enemy.
The Kingdom of Gemini was a land of mirrors and masks. Its nobles were known for their cunning and for always speaking with two tongues. No one ever knew where truth ended and illusion began. Its spies and sorcerers could create perfect doubles, sowing distrust even among allies.
The Kingdom of Libra, by contrast, clothed itself in justice and balance. Yet its scales always tipped in its own favor. Masters of diplomacy, its rulers could make an enemy kneel without ever unsheathing a sword. Still, their word was never free: every alliance hid invisible chains.
And finally, in the heights, stood the Kingdom of Aquarius. Its towers of glass and stone rose upon impossible cliffs. From there, its mages ruled the skies, summoning storms and lightning capable of obliterating entire armies. They looked down upon the rest of the continent with scorn, convinced that no kingdom bound to the earth could ever challenge those who mastered the air.
Twelve kingdoms. Twelve prides. Twelve open wounds. Astralis did not know peace—only temporary truces, as fragile as glass beneath a warrior's feet.
That night, in the mountains of Capricorn, the air smelled of iron and snow. Inside a torchlit hall, the King of Capricorn bent his head over a map covered in symbols. Before him, a messenger of Aries spoke in a firm, almost arrogant voice.
—The war is inevitable —said the man, striking the table with his fist—. And when the flames ignite, Aries will not hesitate to march first.
The monarch of Capricorn watched him in silence, with the patience of a wolf measuring the distance before the leap. He did not answer at once. His eyes, dark as stone, traced the borders, the names, the roads. He knew the continent was about to burn. He knew Astralis beat with a divided heart… and that every beat was a step closer to the abyss.