Viremalm Kingdom. Border camp of the shadow wardens.

  The sky was of a beautiful black illuminate by the moon and the stars, under this black sky a campfire roared with unnatural life, around it stood warriors with their armors stained in blood, their foreheads marked with black paint indicating that they were ready for a fight.

  They were the shadow wardens, survivors of ten thousands raids, their scars told everything, they have survived every fight their king has indicated.

  At the heart of the camp stood King Drake Viremalm, his arms covered in blood from the battle they just won, his crown no more than a spiked band of black iron melted from old war trophies. Everyone could see how proud he was from their most recent victory, the tribes have started revealing for the last two years and it was his duty to put them under control, even if the only solution was their annihilation. They have finally conquered the last tribe that form part of the insurrection.

  All around him his battle chosen danced, rending tribute to the god Huitzilopochtli, the war god, he bend and take a severed head from the ground, he look into the eyes of this head before laughing with madness and tossing it to the fire. This head was from the fallen tribe’s chief.

  The circle roared, drums were beating and people continue their dancing, as if they were in the middle of an ancient ritual.

  And then, the fire changed. It stopped roaring and inhaled, like a living thing. The flames start growing in size and changing to different colors, in the end the color was established as black like an abyss.

  The king approaches the fire and he could feel how the flames were looking back at him, trying to deliver a message.

  The fire began to speak, not in words, but in the ancient tongue of the ash people, the first warriors of Viremalm.

  “The black sun cracks.

  A different flame rises without chains.

  It doesn’t want to carry a banner, yet all banners will look for it

  It will not kneel, those who try to make it their own will burn.

  The flames roared as if angry with the universe.

  The child has been chosen

  And the world will bleed until it chooses.

  Whether to burn it or save it.”

  Then the fire exploded and everyone could feel the power in it, not from temperature but from the energy of the universe.

  Regular people would succumb to panic or maybe find help, but not these warriors, they breathe and eat with the only hope to fight one more battle.

  A silence fill the area, and then laughter, wild and joyous.

  The king’s eyes shone like molten steel, a smile on his face before giving a battle cry.

  “The gods have send us a gift!”

  “Gah!” A battle cry fill the area with the words of their king.

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  “A war not yet born? I say we birth it ourselves!”

  “Yes!” Every warrior seems consumed with the idea of consuming the continent.

  “Let the child grow! Let it bring us chaos! The more the people bleed the more we rise!”

  “Gah!”

  Everyone start cheering, hoping that the continent was consumed in war, one that they have only hear in ancient legends.

  For them the prophecy wasn’t something to be afraid, they were waiting for it since the day they were born.

  Danger zone Sylphmar Glade, within the otherworld.

  The sky was entirely black, speckled with floating lanterns. Sylphmar Glade shimmered between realities leaping isles of crystal, suspended in the air.

  In a corner of one of the Islands, the court of fairies assembled.

  Fairies of impossible charm are gathered in here, if one human without protections put in place look them in the eyes they can lose their soul without them noticing. They are dancing through a spiraling vortex of glass and fog. Their voices were like thunder when they didn’t fake it to hypnotize someone.

  Suddenly their dancing stopped. One by one turn their head towards the place where they were feeling a strange connection, the mirror of fate, an enormous ancient artifact that has been in this dimension before any of the fairies come into existence, they have no idea who crafted it, but the thing they know was that they shouldn’t underestimate the messages that delivers.

  The mirror start glowing and pulse with energy, the vibrations could be feel in the entire island, when all of the fairies in this Island were notified it give a specific message, one that will be remember by everyone.

  “The one who walks outside of the wheel of destiny has arrived.

  It has been given two names under the gaze of the gods.

  Once betrayed, resurrected from the ashes.

  It has seen the worst of life

  It will not ask, It will take.

  It can draw cities to ruin

  Or it can be their hero.”

  The fairies start laughing, it was something normal for them, if kingdoms fall that wouldn’t affect them in the slightest.

  “We must deliver the prophecy to the one that has been crowned.” A fairy dressed in a gown of spider silk says.

  “Yes sister.” Another one responds her smiling, but her smile never reached her eyes.

  The sky Throne in Aeclathar Dominion.

  The king stood upon the sky throne, an enchanted one suspended in open air by threads of starlight. Behind him hovered Aeclathar’s high commanders, cloaked in silence, each wearing their ceremonial masks, emotionless porcelain faces etched with illusion to appear always composed. If someone show any emotion in presence of a fairy it could be their end. Even the king need to use one special mask.

  Suddenly a portal is created before their eyes and a fairy cross it.

  “A prophecy has arrived, a child has been selected, not by us or the gods, but by fate itself.”

  The king did not move, trained since he was a child to never show an emotion to the fairies.

  “Is that so?” It is the only response of the king.

  “When it appears, it should be your decision of what to do, either kill it or make it a slave, we don’t care.”

  “We will do what it’s appropriate to our people.”

  “Then that’s all, we were bound by the contracted to inform you.” The fairy says it before opening another portal and disappearing.

  Everyone waited in silence to their king, the chamber remained still for a few minutes.

  The king turned his head and give his decision.

  “Prepare the Archive of unseen threads.” He says without any emotion in his voice.

  “We will do as the king command.” His followers respond before departing.

  Everyone moves like machines, without any hesitation or questions ask.