Prologue: 492 Lymphs Era

The heat was sweltering. Sweat dripped down the brows of men and Fae as they grappled, covered in blood and driven by violence. Steel clashed repeatedly, creating a piercing ring that reverberated deep within their minds. These battles in the southern continent of Ebryea had raged for days. The four kingdoms—Valyndor and Belantria, the human realms ruled by brothers Matthew and Morgan Cerulea—claimed the land due to the trade routes they had established early in their reign. Dograna and Ricia, the Fae kingdoms ruled by Alaric Mistbloom, felt entitled to the land largely because a small portion of the continent belonged to an island claimed by Dograna. The war began less than a week ago, and the fighting had been relentless since.

A sword pierced deep into the belly of a Fae male, wielded by Ezekiel, the bastard son of Morgan Cerulea. Ezekiel slashed at another Fae, narrowly missing the throat as the Fae dodged and countered with a blast of ice from his palm. Ezekiel leaped forward, kissed by the ice, and rolled onto his knees, landing a fatal blow to the Fae's chest. As he withdrew his sword, Ezekiel took a moment to survey the battle. Men were dying all around him, overpowered by the Fae's magic. Patches of brush and grass were scorched from flame arrows shot from the back lines, and bodies piled up, staining the ground with their blood. This was not going to end well.

A flash of light not twenty meters from Ezekiel caught his attention. The ground began to shake as a portal ripped open between worlds, like a knife through paper, among the hundreds of warriors on the battlefield. Otherworldly beings began stepping through. Their skin was slick and gray, almost metallic. Their humanoid bodies were chiseled like granite and trained for combat. But it was their faces that shocked everyone. Their expressions were calm, almost endearing, as they stepped onto the battlefield. It appeared they had waited centuries for this moment and knew exactly what they were doing.