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The Mythic Realms

Wren_West
✦ Prologue – The First Light Long before the name “Eldoria” was etched in song or stone, before demon kings cast shadows across the land, before moonlight kissed marble temples—there was only the Light. It was not sunlight, nor any star’s glimmer, but something deeper—an ancient pulse that breathed life into the world. This Light was essence, harmony, and the echo of the world’s first rhythm. From it arose the Guardians: vast elemental spirits shaped from mist, stone, tide, and wind. They guided the lands, balanced the skies, and stirred the heart of all living things. But balance is fragile. Time passed. The Guardians fell silent—some forgotten, others betrayed. The Light waned, retreating into memory, and in its absence, a new force took hold. From the void left behind, Malakar emerged—neither born nor created, but conjured from imbalance. Eyes like molten silver. Words like poison. He spread discord through roots and rivers, twisted men into beasts, and turned cities into echoes of what they once were. Where unity had ruled, he sowed conquest. Where meaning had existed, he left only hunger. Yet even in despair, the old Light stirred. A vision came to the Moon Priestesses: a figure cloaked in grief, marked by loss, who would carry sorrow not as a burden—but as a key. A child of ashes. A soul tempered by pain. His name was Kael Draven. The boy who had watched his village collapse under claw and shadow now walks a different path. Vengeance sharpened his steps. But in the gathering dusk, others joined him: a cursed mage seeking redemption, a priestess guided by visions, a warrior whose honor survived exile, a wild whisperer of beasts, and rebels who still believed in tomorrow. Together, they found something long hidden—the Artifact of Hope, a relic older than any kingdom. But its light demanded a price: memory, belief, even pieces of the self. Now, the world stands on the threshold. Malakar watches. The ancient forces stir. And the question remains: Will this light be enough to mend what was broken—or will the darkness swallow all that remains?
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