Standing before the city, isolated from the world, were just two men. They stopped for a moment at the entrance, gazing up at the fifty-meter-high gate.

"We're back!" declared one of the warriors.

"Finally," added the other, who seemed much more worn out.

"Only took us three years," the first continued with a hint of irony, though deep down he was happy to be back.

The city of Dreadvale as it remained in their memories, seemed unchanged. As if it will never change. They'd only seen its outer side, but that familiar feeling hit them immediately.

"IDs!" demanded the guard, checking the newcomers.

After seeing their papers, he froze and gasped in surprise. "Don and Bugator—is it really you guys?" He grinned, embracing them both. "How long have you been gone? You were nearly out of time!"

"Bit over three years," replied Bugator, his long, unkempt beard showing signs of their journey.

"Good thing we made it. All I want now is a bath and a big meal." Don said, barely able to contain his excitement.

The officer cleared his throat, a sparkle of curiosity in his eyes. "How did the expedition go? You were gone for so long; I figured you'd bring back a lot of prophecy fragments."

The younger warrior chuckled. "You'd be right about that. But, well, you know the drill—we can't share anything just yet. We're bringing good news to the supervisor."

The guard nodded and said nothing more.

"Before we go in," Bugator stopped and looked at the guard with interest. "How's Hope? How's his status?" He looked concerned.

Don, curious as well, glanced at the guard eagerly.

Unfortunately, the guard's face revealed a mix of emotions, none of them pleasant. "No one calls him 'Hope' anymore." The frustration in his voice was evident.

"What are they calling him, then?" Don wasn't ready to give up.

The guard glanced towards the city, shaking his head with regret. "Now, everyone calls him Despair."

"What do you mean, 'Des—'" Bugator couldn't believe his ears. No, he didn't want to believe it. He tried to question it, but the officer didn't give him a chance.

"You'll understand everything yourselves. I didn't want to greet you with such ugly news on your return... Welcome back."

The companions exchanged glances, shrugged, and headed back towards their quarters. Neither had a family waiting for them, only distant relatives with whom they barely kept in touch. This loneliness wasn't rare in Dreadvale, especially among warriors, where most didn't live past fifty.

Everyone was expected to marry and have children. They still had a few years before their time ran out, so they hadn't rushed. They had returned with fragments of prophecy and were excited and proud of their accomplishments. But the news about Hope gnawed at them. There was a deep reason behind that:

Three hundred years ago, humanity was on the verge of extinction. Their once carefree existence has been transformed by a struggle for survival as a result of massive planetary changes.

All of humanity has felt the impact of the cosmic forces that erupted centuries ago. Monstrous entities appeared, some controlling human bodies, others taking over animals.

And then there were entirely new beings, whose powers far surpassed human capabilities. Their origins, intentions, and weaknesses remained mysteries. These monsters pushed humanity back, driving it to the edge of annihilation.

In this darkness, the prophecies began to emerge. Their origins were uncertain, unknown, unknowable. But fragments of visions appeared in poems, tales, and stories out of nowhere. Each prophecy carried its own purpose and meaning. Dictating life and death.

Prophetic fragments could be found in ancient relics, weapons, graves and scattered throughout the world, foretelling apocalypse, outcomes, and possible futures. Through these fragments, humanity discovered the phenomenon they called the Fracture. 

Interpreting these prophecies was a task anyone could undertake, and simply touching a fragment would turn it into understanding. Those who gathered and studied the prophecies became known as Seeers.

The prophecies encompassed everything, from humanity's beginning to each second of its potential endless existence. But collecting and interpreting these fragments proved beyond human abilities, especially as monsters and deadly creatures covered the planet.

Having glimpsed hope, humanity was further plunged into panic over its untapped knowledge. Many settlements gave up; others waged wars, leaving society almost entirely fragmented.

At the most critical moment of humanity's survival, the gods appeared. No one knew their exact number and fragmented prophecies offered no conclusions. Instead, what emerged were the undeniable acts of service from these lofty beings.

The gods promised humanity aid from their realms in exchange for forming bonds and gathering fragments of prophecy. Their power marked the beginning of humanity's new fight. Those who bore the gods' marks were called Binders. Even Seeers power saw unimaginable growth.

With divine power at their disposal, humanity stopped retreating and began to push back against the monsters. They reclaimed and fortified cities, defeated previously untouchable colossal predators, and regained peace, but only on the surface. More than half the planet remained unconquered.

The new species that was on par with humans one day disappeared. They left no traces, no fragments about them. The whole scenario was covered in a thick fog, making people tremble in fear.

Over two hundred years later, the gathering of fragments continued. Prophecies spread, and people gained more knowledge, understanding that peace was temporary. They must pay the price, and it won't be cheap.

Throughout this time, humanity continued to grow. According to the prophecies, the danger wasn't over. The number of monsters grew daily, and even the gods' power wasn't enough to reduce their numbers.

Thus, fear lingered in every heart. The threat remained, and accumulated knowledge indicated it would never vanish. In fact, the tension it caused never disappeared.

A fragment of a poem would emerge, joined by fables, until one day the whole world spoke of it. A child, not yet born, became a beacon of hope. He was tasked with ensuring the survival of the entire species, and according to the rumours, he was soon to appear.

A few years later, a child was born whose real name none of the prophecies spoke of. Everyone called him Hope and every moment of his life was controlled.

Myths and legends about him spread immediately. Fragments spoke a lot about his destiny: He would collect all the prophecies in the future and bring true peace to the world.

However, the boy never knew freedom. His food, his clothing, his friends, and toys were defined by others. His mother died when he was born, and his father was separated from him the next day. The guardians were also chosen by the planet's government. He was transferred to a closed city, forbidden to outsiders and with strict controls on visitors. 

Nothing was spared for his education and welfare. The best instructors were selected, and every parameter of his health was checked twice a day. He was guarded by the most powerful Binders of the time.

In short, Hope was the most protected and important person on the planet. In his early training, he seemed to live up to his name. Quick-witted, nimble, and intelligent, he picked things up quickly and was a few paces ahead of his peers.

His physical capabilities were equally impressive.

At age twelve, he could easily defeat warriors five years his senior. He wielded a sword, spear, bow, and other weapons flawlessly.

Cautiously, he was introduced to monsters at fifteen. Humanity watched his progress eagerly. However, this day would mark the end of his glory. Hope was not afraid. He faced the creature confidently, sure he could handle it.

The problem was that he couldn't. He was immobile before the beast. Not a single muscle obeyed, and he nearly choked, lying in his vomit.

The prophecies said nothing of such an outcome. It was an unbelievable shock for both the city and the waiting globe. They repeated the test multiple times, each of which nearly killed Hope. 

His standing worsened over the years. No one dared to gamble his life, so he continued to enjoy every privilege. The prophecies still spoke in his favour, yet he could prove nothing. Against humanity's greatest threat, he of all people was hopeless.

Then someone called him Despair. The name stuck, and it became his new title. Nearly three years had passed since his first failure. He was approaching the age when everyone was required to appear before the gods.

At this ceremony, they choose your path. Decide your future, grant you power while assigning specific fragments to gather, and officially make you a Binder.

Every child dreamed of becoming a Binder, especially when growing up on tales of their heroic deeds. It was hard not to desire the mythical powers they possessed. They were cool and seemed untouchable. Defending the world was a point of pride and prestige. Not everyone had the right or ability to do so.

For Hope, there was never any question. No options. He was born to be a warrior, to form bonds with the strongest gods, to collect all the necessary prophecies, and to be the guardian of the world's safety. No one asked him what he truly wanted. Nobody gave a damn about his ambitions or feelings.

An individual could never stand above society. The majority's interests would always come first, and nothing could oppose that. It was the power of democracy. The force that stands from ancient times.

Hope didn't even know what he wanted. It seemed like he didn't have a choice; all he knew was obedience.

When it came to monsters, he kept failing. Fear was not what paralysed him. His entire body resisted; he was powerless as something inside him screamed. 

It was only three days away from adulthood. That day, he would meet the gods. Besides, he was not confident. He feared that he would fail again and eventually turn into real Despair. It was ironic, the planet's Hope without any hope in himself.

'Perhaps the prophecy is wrong.'

This was his daily thought.

'But it has never failed.'

He was alone in his room, pondering when he heard a knock.