Ashura Ascension
The Cosmic War between the Devas and the Ashuras was a battle that shook the very fabric of existence. The Devas, beings of light and harmony, sought to preserve balance and creation. In contrast, the Ashuras, born of chaos and ambition, craved dominion over all things, their essence entwined with destruction and change.
For eons, the war raged across the cosmos, stars igniting and dying in the wake of their conflict. The Ashuras, unwilling to concede, reached deep into their chaotic essence to create something new—a race they called the Dark Ones. These beings, born of shadow and magic, were unlike anything the cosmos had ever seen. They embodied raw, untamed power, and their forms varied wildly. From elegant, immortal vampires to ferocious werebeasts, from the ethereal Aetherborn to the ruthless Lycanthes, the Dark Ones were an army designed to overwhelm the light.
The Devas, in their righteous glory, rose to meet this new threat. They forged weapons of light and rallied the forces of creation itself to banish the Ashuras and their Dark Ones. The battle came to a climactic end when the Devas, pooling their divine energies, sealed the Ashuras away in a prison outside time and space. The Dark Ones, weakened and leaderless, scattered across the world, becoming remnants of a forgotten age.
Eons Later
The world flourished in the absence of war. Kingdoms rose, civilizations thrived, and magic intertwined with daily life. Yet, the shadow of the past lingered, woven into the stories told by hearthfires and in the ruins of ancient battlefields.
The Dark Ones, now called by other names, remained scattered. Vampires, once generals of the Ashuras, hid in the shadows, their elegant courts manipulating events from behind the scenes. Lycanthes ruled the wilds, their packs fierce and untamable. The Sylvari, creatures born of chaos but drawn to the balance of nature, became guardians of the ancient forests, while the Drakari, half-dragon warriors, claimed their place as scholars and warriors in the world of men.
Magic coursed through everything—through the land, the sky, and even the people. Mages summoned storms with a thought, warriors bonded with beasts that roamed the ether, and alchemists turned base metals into shimmering crystals of power. Cities carved from stone floated high in the sky, held aloft by the remnants of Deva magic, and vast seas were patrolled by ships powered by lightning and wind.
Yet, peace was fragile.
In the darkest corners of the world, whispers began to spread. Strange phenomena were reported—forests dying overnight, rivers running black as ink, and creatures not seen since the Cosmic War emerging from forgotten ruins. The balance of the world trembled, as if an ancient, sealed force was straining against its chains.
And in the heart of it all, a boy sat by a campfire, his necklace glowing faintly as though stirred by the echoes of a forgotten war.
The Boy and the Whispering World
He gazed into the fire, the dancing flames reflecting in his dark eyes. The weight of the necklace around his neck felt heavier than ever. It had been eons since the war, but somehow, he felt it still pulsing in his blood, whispering in his dreams.
