How it began

Everything began slowly. At first, there were reports from distant regions. Borders were crossed in silence. Small settlements disappeared. Then, cities began to fall.

The darkness did not advance through open war, but with patience. One by one, it targeted kingdoms. Those who resisted were destroyed, and those who remained were brought under its control.

Over time, this became almost ordinary. Night raids, people vanishing, lands taken without a sound. Nowhere was truly safe anymore.

The order that had stood for centuries began to unravel. And the world changed — without anyone truly noticing.

After the fall of kingdoms, only the survivors remained. Some fled. Some hid. Others chose to resist.

There was an ancient prophecy, passed down through generations. Most dismissed it as nothing more than a story.

But the one spoken of in that prophecy was born in the darkest of times. Blessed. Carrying within a power capable of standing against the darkness, and with it, an ancient weapon — one that belonged only to the chosen.

Would this power be enough to stop what was spreading, or would it begin to change the one who carried it, turning it into something far worse?

Would the world slowly fall into darkness, or could this seemingly inevitable end still be changed?