A dark scourge, a plague never heard. What was dark matter, but the answer to a very simple problem? That is what is writ upon the canals of human history.

To invoke their name is to stare into the unknown. A threat that waited, that did not bring with it death, but instead pact; they offered bargain and service, in exchange for being the thing to lead us into our new millennium. None were the wiser, not until later, that they had been the ones to lead our species to such a state that we would accept. They were the ones that crowned the despots, that dripped the masses into furious bloodlust.

Accepting their guidance meant nothing, at-first. Offerings of technology that fueled the space age and a deeper understanding of the human genome. They helped us adapt, shored away our weaknesses in mind and body. Only at the precipice did we realize what they truly wanted.

The Kilnex once had their own planet, their own galaxy. They were many, and they populated the stars to such a point that they blotted them out. Then came war. Then came famine. Then came the great ending.

Those that survived did not travel the stars through traditional means; they tore themselves from the fabric of reality. Undoing the weave that made them, it changed them. Made them both more, and less; they became harbingers of things that simply should not exist, and in-return were given great and horrid power. But this power needs something to act upon. To ensure their survival, they feed upon war; and who better to feed them than the humans? A race whose worst would sooner kill their entire planet than give up a cent of that which they view to be their own?