Long before Dezyne and Devon, before the fall of the warlock kingdoms and the rise of the wolves, the Magnus clan was little more than a gathering of wandering mages, gifted, yes, but scattered and leaderless. They were powerful but directionless, respected yet feared, and always on the edge of extinction due to their own fragility.
Then came the Red Moon Century Festival.
A celestial event that occurred only once every hundred years, the red moon washed the sky with blood-gold light. According to prophecy, a child born under that moon would reshape the fate of magic itself.
That child was Marcus Magnus.
He came into the world wailing under a sky dyed crimson, while every elder in the clan trembled in awe. His birth cry rippled with mana so dense that the lanterns shattered, and the air itself vibrated. Even the elven seers who observed from afar whispered:
"A ruler has arrived."
But destiny often walks hand in hand with tragedy.
