[ ??? - Rivers of Light ]
"Once upon a time....
Above the highest reach of mortal sight, beyond the drifting sea of clouds and the reach of storms, there existed a realm known as Elythra — a kingdom suspended in the heavens.
Its lands wandered the skies like sacred stars, bound together by rivers of light that flowed beneath marble cities and golden sanctuaries.
There, at the pinnacle of the light, countless wings crossed its radiant horizon — servants of light, guardians born from divine flame, whose songs carried across the heavens like distant choirs. To mortals below, Elythra was not merely a place.
It was paradise itself.
Yet the world of mortals was not always as it is now.
In an age long forgotten, life upon the mortal earth existed upon a single, massive continent — a vast land where every life known to man lived united. They named it Everen, a world without division, where the seas surrounded civilization but never separated it.
Humanity lived in harmony, untouched by conquest, greed, or war. It was an age of peace so complete it seemed eternal.
But eternity was broken.
Beneath all things, beyond the reach of light, there lingered another realm — a domain later feared as Arth'zyle.
A place without dawn.
Its lands were swallowed by endless darkness, where mountains twisted like broken bones and oceans moved without reflection. From its depths came fallen beings shaped by hatred, despair, and the remnants of forgotten gods.
And they looked upward toward Elythra with envy.
In time, that envy became hatred.
And hatred became war.
Thus began the catastrophe remembered across history as the Sundering War.
The heavens split open.
Servants of light descended in radiant armor while the abyss answered with shadows vast enough to consume entire lands. Sacred towers collapsed into storms of fire. Cities burned among the clouds. The skies themselves trembled as Elythra and Arth'zyle clashed beyond mortal comprehension.
And the mortal world suffered beneath them.
The war did not remain confined to the heavens.
Existence itself fractured.
The land of Everen shattered apart into countless drifting landmasses scattered across the oceans. Nations that had once stood together were separated beyond return. Humanity, once united and serene, was cast into isolation, struggle, and survival.
Across generations, the old harmony faded.
In its place emerged fear, ambition, conflict... and the growing desire for power.
Though Elythra ultimately endured, victory came at a terrible cost — Its lands were left wounded, and its guardians remained diminished.
Silence followed where war had once roared.
It was then, amidst that silence, that a goddess wept.
A tear fell from the heavens...
It descended beyond storm and sky, crossing the void between realms until it struck the mortal world below with a tremor that shattered forests, rivers, and mountains alike.
Yet within the crater, there was no destruction.
Only a child.
Wrapped in pale light, untouched by flame or dust, the infant lay silently beneath the rain. Before dawn, a pair of humble farmers discovered him and carried him home as though guided by fate itself.
They named him Arcadius.
For they believed the heavens had entrusted them with a miracle.
Years passed, and whispers spread across the fractured nations of mankind.
One night, a servant of light descended from Elythra itself, illuminating the fields beneath the stars. Before the child, it bestowed a blessing — a mark said to be granted only to those chosen by prophecy.
The child would restore balance.
The child would become mankind's hope.
For while Elythra maintained its duty over creation, the lingering shadow beneath existence still pressed against the fragile order of all things, and balance demanded a counterweight.
But prophecy is fragile.
And even light casts shadows.
From the depths of darkness, something ancient reached the child first — unseen, patient, and waiting. Corruption seeped into his soul like poison beneath clear water. The blessing meant to guide him slowly twisted into something else.
Then came the night the skies changed.
Thunder roared across the heavens.
And within a home once filled with warmth, blood stained the floorboards.
The child of prophecy had slaughtered the couple who raised him.
By dawn, he was gone.
Far above the clouds, the gods learned the devastating truth, and the gates of Elythra stood silent beneath the gathering darkness.
For the heavens finally understood what they had created.
The chosen child had fallen.
And the paragons of light, titled as the "Eternals", came to fear that they themselves had given birth to the very thing capable of destroying them."