The skies over Kuraichi no Kuni were always turbulent. At dawnbreak storms foamed up in the clouds as shadows that moved over rivers and mountains without regard. The very earth was stirred as if earth recalled the wars, the spilled blood, the lost kingdoms.
Before them once more lay the Land of Desire vast as the sea, an ocean of cities, castles, fields under the watchful eye of masters who thought only of power. They controlled outright over a majority of Kuraichi no Kuni, and a quarter of the smaller kingdoms trembled under their boot. Their armies advanced like a tide of fire and steel, businesslike and unremorseful. It was a matter of power, and anyone foolish enough to attempt to get in their way often didn't live long enough to describe the incident.
To the east loomed the Land of Flames yet burning fiercely, but their great cities now bore the mark of yearly conquest. Fire and ash ran their streets as a sign that its greatness was in its sunset years. Chiefs conspired in terms of caution for fear of the expanding shadow of Desire. Day by day ever more they fell back—not upon maps just, but in minds and hearts.
And then came the Shadow Realm, a mystery that no mortal could ever put words adequately to. Few had looked upon it, but far fewer came back again to tell the tale. Even foul creatures, the greatest that the planet had given forth, kept its borders at bay. It was accursed, some claimed; others declared it consecrated. Whichever the truth might be, all were certain of one thing: it was closed off.
Among these mighty powers were thousands upon thousands of lesser kingdoms, weak and cut off. Others could only be approached by portals, lights and magical gates that glittered as beacons, or by ripping through the actual fabric of space itself—a task that only those of unimaginable power were capable of performing. Those worlds were worlds of peril, worlds where monsters ran rampant, unregulated in their devastation. Villages lay desolate over the course of a mere evening, only blackened earth and flung bones being left behind. Even the greatest warriors did not hesitate.
The Petal World was a small forgotten place. It had a population of but five thousand people and was a tranquil small bubble of life in a sea of war. Their masters had a special gift: a mutant eye that healed companions and shielded against harm. Petal Realm people loved the Petal Masters for this gift, but the kingdom was too small to count for much outside its borders. Life here was unassuming, circumspect, and stingy—a world on the other side of hurricanes that lashed around kingdoms of Desire and Flames. And even in the Petal Kingdom itself, omens of change had occurred. Glimmers on the winds whispered that monsters grew more fearless, that storms had a scent that was not quite so, that dark things were seen on towns' peripheries. The world had a tendency towards keeping its people mindful that peace was fragile, that a smallest blossom could be trodden under the world's heel. Kuraichi no Kuni was no benevolent kingdom. Strength predominated over who could live or die, who issued decrees that were heeded. Creinous strength had no direct affinity with being born, but with one's powers, mind, and barbarity. Even a weak kingdom like Petal, the weakest of kingdoms, could be vulnerable to powers that could not comprehend. And in such a world, a mere spark—a child born under an ill-favoured heaven—a child that could set destinies alight.