In the state of Kurus, the Behnegar family thrived as a cornerstone of the empire of Sanhar for over a century. Their sprawling family estate was home to a vibrant household: four elder figures, three brothers, and their respective families all living together in harmony. The Behnegar brothers managed a vast business empire, each playing a critical role in its success.
The family was blessed with many children. The eldest brother, Ishlu, had five sons and three daughters. The youngest, Enbilu, had four sons and two daughters. Dumozin, the second brother, had two sons and a single daughter, Lerina, the youngest in the family. As the family's youngest, Lerina was cherished by everyone.
When Lerina was born, her striking features captured everyone's attention. People said she was going to be a beauty one of a kind. So they named her 'Lerina,' meaning 'blessed with beauty.' Strangers and acquaintances alike were captivated by her beauty and natural charm. Her presence seemed to inspire love and admiration wherever she went.
Raised in an environment of boundless affection, Lerina blossomed into a gentle, compassionate soul. She loved animals and nature, often spending hours among them in the family estate. Her education included literature, arts, history and philosophy, preparing her to be a cultured and intelligent young lady with a bright future ahead.
Lerina's charm extended far beyond humans and animals—she inexplicably attracted supernatural entities known as Nashiqs. These mystical beings, deeply connected to the natural world, possessed the ability to adapt to their surroundings and shift forms as they pleased. They were as diverse as the elements they inhabited, with some Nashiqs thriving in lush forests, rugged mountains, or vast seas, while others survived even in the most inhospitable climates.
The Nashiqs' world was one of stark contrasts, shaped by their bloodline and inherent power determineded their standing among the tribes. The 'Gellos,' weak and marginalized, lived a life of perpetual caution. Their existence, hidden within the shadows of mankind, was marked by adaptability and survival. Shape-shifting into animals, birds, or even humans allowed them to coexist with humanity, but always at the edge of discovery. Their stories were whispered in folklore, their presence suspected but rarely confirmed.
The 'Samar,' on the other hand, were a race of almost god-like beings. They were the rulers of the seas, with their kings governing the oceans in seven vast, distinct territories. This race of Nashiqs were elemental masters, each commanding the forces of nature with effortless grace. Their abilities were awe-inspiring—capable of shaping cities from nothing or erasing civilizations in moments. The Samsar were more than leaders; they were creators and destroyers, embodying the raw power and majesty of the natural world.
Their longevity, spanning hundreds of thousands of years, placed them beyond the reach of mortality. The civilization they built was a beacon of wonder, described in tales as utopian—an advanced society where knowledge, power, and beauty thrived. To glimpse their world was to witness perfection, and for those outside, it was the stuff of dreams, a vision of an unattainable paradise.
Despite their power, the Samars were not tyrants but wise rulers. Their governance brought balance to the world's oceans, ensuring the Nashiqs' dominance over their realms while maintaining a delicate harmony with the forces of nature. Yet, their might was a double-edged sword, a reminder of the fragile line between creation and destruction.
These sea-dwelling Nashiqs rarely interacted with humanity, choosing to remain distant and enigmatic. Yet, their influence was profound. Some were revered as deities by coastal civilizations, worshipped for blessings of protection, health, and prosperity. Temples and rituals dedicated to these Nashiqs dotted the shores, a testament to their perceived divinity.
The lands of the world were a tapestry of diverse civilizations, divided and ruled by humans and Nashiqs from tribes like Murra, Barchum, Asakku, and others. Humanity flourished in their own way, builting cities that bustled with trade, fields of crops, and monuments of stone and wood which stood as testaments to their ambition and ingenuity. The Nashiqs, in contrast, shaped their realms with magic, their territories imbued with an otherworldly essence that defied human understanding.
Among the Nashiq tribes, the Asakku stood out for their malevolence and mastery of dark magic. Wicked and mischievous by nature, they harbored an intense hatred for mankind. Some reveled in the taste of human flesh, others abducted women and children, while many delighted in causing havoc and sowing chaos. To humans, the Asakku were the embodiment of terror, the stuff of nightmares, lurking at the edges of their villages and dreams. The Asakku, in turn, saw humans as weak but meddlesome, their presence a constant affront to the Asakku's dark dominion.
But the Asakku's cruelty did not stop with humanity. Even among their own kind, they were feared and despised. The Asakku's dark arts were as much a threat to other Nashiqs as they were to humans, and their unchecked hunger for power often brought harm to their kin. Weaker tribes of Nashiqs lived in constant dread of becoming the next victim of an Asakku's schemes or rituals. Worse getting eaten by one. To both mankind and the Nashiq tribes, the Asakku were a scourge—a reminder of the horrors that festered in the shadows.
The broader relationship between humans and land-dwelling Nashiqs was fraught with tension. For humans, the Nashiqs' supernatural abilities and secretive ways were both fascinating and deeply unsettling. Stories of Nashiq trickery, vengeance, or cruelty spread far and wide, painting them as a menace to humanity's progress. Nashiqs, however, viewed humans as short-sighted, their unchecked ambitions and relentless expansion wreaking havoc on the natural order that the Nashiqs sought to preserve.
Despite their differences, necessity occasionally fostered moments of fragile cooperation. In some cases, Nashiqs offered their magical protection to human settlements, warding off threats in exchange for offerings, or a mutual understanding. Such alliances often hinged on tenuous trust and shared interests, but they were rarely enduring. Suspicion lingered on both sides, and even the smallest betrayal could unravel the bonds of coexistence.
These rare alliances were fleeting glimpses of what might have been—a world where humans and Nashiqs worked together to build a harmonious existence. But the shadows of fear, prejudice, and centuries of conflict loomed large, ensuring that such unity remained the exception rather than the rule.
When Lerina was just a few days old, an evil Nashiq named Kandar from the tribe of Asakku, infamous for preying on infants, attempted to abduct her. The Behnegar family narrowly thwarted his attempt. From that day forward, her parents took every measure to shield her from supernatural dangers. For years, Lerina lived safely, and the family gradually eased their vigilance.
At the age of twelve, Lerina's compassion led to an unexpected adventure. While playing with other children in the estate's garden, one of them captured a large frog in a box. Lerina, sensing the frog's fear, decided to release it into the nearby pond. She believed she had done something kind and soon forgot about it.
Days later, Lerina vanished from her room. The family was thrown into panic. Servants searched the estate while her mother, gripped by fear, recalled the incident from years ago. Could another Nashiq have taken her?
Meanwhile, Lerina awoke in an unfamiliar setting: a house carved into an ancient, towering tree in the heart of the mysterious Rakazan Forest. The forest was an ancient and enigmatic place. Towering trees with gnarled roots and sprawling canopies blocked most sunlight, creating an eerie twilight even during the day. Thick vines hung from the branches like serpents, swaying with every whisper of wind. The air was heavy with the scent of moss and the distant hum of unseen creatures.
The Rakazan forest was home to countless beings, both wondrous and terrifying. Gigantic wolves with glowing golden eyes prowled the shadows, their howls echoing like distant thunder. Serpentine creatures with shimmering, scale-covered bodies coiled around ancient trees. Colossal birds, their feathers shimmering like liquid gold, soared above the treetops, their cries piercing the silence.
Some of the trees were not mere plants but living, sentient beings, their awareness deeply rooted in the ancient soil. Few were guardians of the forest, towering protectors that watched over their domain in stoic silence. Few, however, were far more sinister. These predatory trees concealed their malevolence beneath a guise of stillness. Their gnarled branches twitched faintly in anticipation, and their roots writhed just beneath the surface like serpents waiting to strike.
The dominant inhabitants of this vast and ancient forest were the Nashiqs—who deeply attuned to the rhythms of nature. Scattered across the dense expanse of Rakazan, numerous Nashiq tribes thrived in secluded harmony, their villages hidden beneath the emerald canopy or nestled within the hollows of colossal trees.
These Nashiqs rarely had encounters with humans, for they lived in self-imposed isolation, shrouded by layers of ancient magic. Their connection to the forest was not merely one of shelter but of kinship; they spoke with the trees, danced with the wind, and listened to the whispers of the rivers. Time moved differently within their sanctuaries, where the air hummed with enchantments and twilight seemed to linger eternally.
For humans, Rakazan was a forbidden place, its depths cloaked in fear and mystery. Few dared to venture into its labyrinthine paths, and fewer still ever returned. Those who did spoke of haunting melodies echoing through the mist, eyes watching from the darkness, and an overwhelming sense of being unwelcome.
To step into Rakazan was to trespass on an ancient pact—a silent agreement between the Nashiqs and the forest that this land was theirs alone, untouched and unspoiled by the greed of the outside world.