The world followed its course, as it always had.
The gods shaped the land, raised mountains, and carved rivers with their will. The sun rose and set at their decree, and the laws of existence remained unchallenged. Every being, every soul, every fate had its place in the grand design.
There were no mistakes.
Life did not come to be by chance. It was forged, molded by divine hands, each creation set upon the path carved for it.
The Seraphen took to the skies, their wings bathed in light, carrying the will of the gods to the mortal realm. The Elves dwelled beneath ancient canopies, their long lives entwined with the whispers of the earth. The Drakyr ruled the highlands, their scaled bodies imbued with the raw force of the elements.
But they were not the only ones.
There were those who lurked in the deep places of the world—beings whose forms had never been fully recorded, whose existence was spoken of only in hushed voices. There were ancient creatures bound to the stars, warriors who did not kneel to the gods, and civilizations lost to time, their names erased from scripture.
Even the demons, cast into the forsaken lands, were but one of many.
And then, there were the mortals.
Unlike the others, they were given no great power, no sacred duty. They were not made to serve, nor to rule. Instead, they were granted something far greater—the right to choose.
Where the other races fulfilled their roles without question, mortals knelt willingly. They built kingdoms in the gods' name, raised temples in devotion, and swore their faith. And in return, they were granted order, protection, and the right to carve their own path.
But on one forgotten day, in a place of no consequence, a child was born.
No omens marked his arrival. No celestial signs, no blessings, no curses. The priests performed their rites, spoke their prayers, and declared his birth like any other.
Yet, in the grand design of the gods, his name did not exist.
The gods, who watched over all things, did not see him.
It was not a curse. It was not defiance. It was something far worse.
A flaw in a world where flaws were not meant to exist.
And so, the child grew. He took his first steps, spoke his first words, and learned the ways of the world—never realizing that the world itself had never accounted for him. He was raised as a noble heir, taught to serve the divine, to walk the path set before all mortals.
But when the gods finally turned their gaze toward him, when they finally saw what had been overlooked—
It was already too late.