Before the first dawn breathed upon the waters…
Before Eden was veiled and the realms were divided…
The First Light shimmered in perfect unity.
It was the root of every faith, the pulse beneath every mountain,
the sacred flame that tied creation to its Maker.
But one among the Watchers—
a being shaped from glory yet starved of humility, reached for the Light with hands unworthy.
His touch fractured the heavens.
Seven realms splintered from one:
Eden. Meru. Shambhala. Hyperborea. The Pure Land. Tarshish. The Abyss.
Each realm carried a shard of the First Light,
hidden from corrupted eyes.
The Watcher was cast into the deepest darkness—
beneath Sheol, beneath the roots of Mount Hermon—
into the Abyss where no mercy dwells.
Ages passed.
Empires crumbled into dust.
Prophets heard whispers that made their bones tremble.
And the Veils...those ancient seals...began to thin.
Then, on a night forgotten by history,
a new whisper passed through the spiritual realms:
a child had been born.
A girl with breath touched by Eden,
and a soul that resonated with the First Light itself.
She would grow, unaware of what slept beneath her ribs.
Unaware that creation had marked her.
Unaware that the Abyss had felt her awakening.
Now, as cracks splinter the Desert of Zin
and the Nameless One begins to stir,
the prophecy unfurls like a scroll sealed since the dawn of time:
"From the shattered Light shall rise
a Daughter of Eden,
and by her side two guardians—
one of earth, one of ice.
Only united shall the realms stand.
Only through her shall creation breathe again."
Far from the cracking Veils,
in a quiet place untouched by destiny,
a young woman rises from sleep—
breath trembling, heart pulsing with a light she cannot name.
Creation has chosen her.
And the darkness has already begun to seek her.