In the dawn of eternity, before stars learned to burn or rivers carved their defiant paths, two worlds were born from the same cosmic breath—one a symphony of impossible wonders, the other a muted echo of the mundane.
The first realm was Kishkindha, a living tapestry woven from threads of raw magic. Here, mountains drifted like ancient guardians on currents of ethereal wind, their peaks crowned with crystalline spires that hummed with forgotten songs. Rivers of liquid starlight cascaded through forests where trees bore fruits that granted visions of the future, and the air itself shimmered with the laughter of spirits—beings born from the earth's first heartbeat.
Every stone pulsed with arcane energy; every breath tasted of lotus-fire and storm-kissed ozone. Mages ruled as living gods, their veins alight with spells that could bend time, summon tempests, or weave illusions from moonlight.
But beneath the splendor festered shadows: ancient pacts sealed with primal forces; rival clans warring over forbidden grimoires; whispers of a cataclysm that once nearly unraveled the realm.
The second world was Nemo, a land of stark simplicity, where the sky hung heavy and gray, unbroken by floating isles or auroral veils. Humans toiled under a relentless sun, building cities of steel and glass—chasing dreams powered by machines, not mana. They knew nothing of spirits or spells. Only the grind of daily life… and the hollow ache of a forgotten longing.
Long ago, these worlds were entwined like lovers in a forbidden embrace. Portals blossomed between them—glowing rifts where mages traded enchantments for Nemo's ingenious contraptions, and humans marveled at Kishkindha's miracles. Empires rose from such alliances; legends from such love.
Then harmony shattered.
The Great Schism was born of betrayal—when a rogue archmage, hungry for dominion over both realms, unleashed the Void Eclipse, a cataclysm that devoured souls and warped reality itself. In desperation, the surviving elders forged the Eternal Barrier, a wall of pure will, strengthened by the blood of a thousand sacrifices. It sealed the portals, severed all bridges, and carved immutable laws into existence:
No human may cross into Kishkindha.No mage may set foot in Nemo.
To disobey meant annihilation—bodies twisted into shadows, minds fractured into infinite echoes, souls condemned to the void between worlds. The Barrier enforced its own curse through sentient guardians—spectral wardens that hunted all who dared defy it.
Generations passed. Magic thrived in isolation. Machines thrived in ignorance.
Peace endured… in fear.
Until he emerged from the fringes of legend.
Whispers first stirred in Kishkindha's shadowed underrealms—rumors of a figure draped in midnight robes, his eyes glowing a forbidden shade. Not the emerald blaze of pure mages. Not the dull spark of Nemo's folk. Something… in between.
He spoke of a fractured key hidden within the Barrier's heart.
And in Nemo? Omens.Children born with faint auras.Machines glitching in runes older than time.A lone wanderer carving symbols in dust that vanished like smoke.
Who was he?A child of the Schism's chaos?A guardian gone rogue?Or a harbinger of reunion… or doom?
The Barrier trembled on that fateful night—a crack, thin as a breath, spiderwebbing across the void.
On one side, a mage's heart thundered.On the other, a human awoke from dreams of floating mountains.
He reached out—fingers grazing the impossible.
And destiny answered.