"Legends don't die. They sleep"
---
In the time before memory, before the stars blinked to life or the world had a name, there was only the Void.
It was endless. Silent. A sea of nothingness.
Then, from that silence, five forces awoke: Time, Shape, Death, Chaos, and Eternity.
They were not gods.
They were not monsters.
They were the first dreams. The first fears. The first commands that gave meaning to existence.
Time spun the moments.
Shape carved form from shadow.
Death whispered finality.
Chaos shattered stillness.
And Eternity bound it all together.
From their cosmic clash, the universe was born. Worlds spun. Stars flared. Life emerged.
And from their echoes… the Clans were born.
Each Clan bore a fragment of the Primordials:
Chronarchs, who shaped time.
Shapeborn, who bent reality.
Void Heralds, forged in destruction.
Soul Order, guardians of memory.
And the Eternal Monarchs, who united all through balance and command.
For an age, they coexisted in fragile harmony.
Until pride broke peace.
War scorched the stars. Power clashed with purpose. Reality itself trembled.
From the ashes rose a figure of silence and flame—the First Prime Eternal.
A being who calmed storms. Who spoke only when the cosmos listened.
Some said he was born of stars. Others, that he was a Concept given flesh.
He brought peace.
And then, as mysteriously as he arrived…
He vanished.
But legends don't die.
They sleep.
---
The fire crackled softly in a cottage nestled beneath a silver-lit sky.
A mother's voice drifted like a lullaby of forgotten myths.
> "And when the world forgets the throne," she whispered, "the throne remembers."
Her daughter clutched a faded blanket. Her violet eyes were wide, reflecting the dancing firelight.
"Mama… will the Eternal Monarch ever come back?"
The woman paused, brushing a lock of hair from her daughter's face.
> "Perhaps," she said. "But not as we remember him."
---
That night, as the village of Kaelun slept beneath the breath of stars, Lira stood at her window, her heart pounding softly in her chest.
The wind carried a hum—not wind—but something else.
It felt like… time whispering through the trees.
She couldn't sleep.
Her mother's story stirred something deep inside her. A warmth that scared her.
A feeling she had long buried beneath silence and shame.
She wasn't like the others.
She knew that.
Her time-spells stuttered. Her tutors called her uncertain. Flawed. Her aura flickered—not the steady silver of a Chronarch, but a strange pulse of gold and blue.
The others whispered.
"Outsider."
"Mixed-blood."
"Unstable."
She tried to ignore them. But even she felt it.
Something inside her was… out of sync.
---
A scream shattered the stillness.
Lira jerked from the window and dashed into the night, barefoot across dew-soaked grass.
Villagers had gathered in the square. A young boy lay on the ground, clutching his arm, pale and crying.
Arguments rose. Her mother tried to calm them. Her mentor barked for silence.
Nothing worked.
Lira pushed through the crowd.
"Let me try," she said softly.
A few scoffed. Others stepped aside.
She knelt. Her hand hovered over the boy's injury.
Her chest burned with something ancient and raw.
And then…
The world paused.
Voices melted into whispers.
Leaves froze mid-air.
The stars… slowed.
Time bent.
But only around the boy's arm.
Lira focused, teeth clenched. The power flickered—wild, untrained. Her vision blurred. Her ears rang.
But the swelling eased. The boy's breath calmed.
And then—snap—reality returned.
The boy blinked. Alive. Breathing.
Lira collapsed forward, barely caught by her mother's arms.
The crowd was silent. Awestruck.
And then someone—an elder—whispered:
> "That wasn't just Chronarch magic…"
---
Later, Lira sat by the hearth. Her hands trembled.
Her mind swirled with questions.
> "Who am I?"
It was the question that had haunted her since childhood.
One no one dared to answer.
Her mother sat beside her, silent for what felt like forever.
Then, softly, she spoke.
> "Your father… wasn't one of us."
Lira turned, her heart sinking.
> "He wasn't… Chronarch?"
Her mother's voice cracked. "No. He was something older. Something greater."
Her gaze shimmered with sorrow.
> "He was… an Eternal Monarch."
The flames flickered blue. The wind outside ceased.
And somewhere, far beyond the edge of the village…
The Throne stirred.