Exiled

The Genesis of the Six were tirelessly working to unravel the mysteries of the Nightveil. Their dedication was unwavering.

what felt like the hundredth time. Exhaustion etched lines on their faces, and the air was thick with tension. But suddenly they stopped their works as the world went silent.

Out of the blue, a burst of laughter filled the tension. It was an unexpected, almost surreal sound that broke the silence. The laughter grew louder, more infectious, until everyone joined in. The world echoed with the sound of their collective mirth.

Cole wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "Ah, that was really dramatic background music, Sherphina," he said with a grin.

Sherphina, trying to catch her breath, shook her head. "You always know how to lighten the mood, Cole."

Adrian, holding his laugh from embarrassment of his act as the clue he found about nightveil in a fictional book was the book he wrote himself.

"Now that we're set out in different continents, why not just relax a bit?" Noah suggested, a rare smile playing on his lips.

Sherphina nodded in agreement, her laughter subsiding into a gentle smile. "That's a good idea. Not only do we have no clue about the Nightveil to begin with, but it will also take at least another five years for it to appear again."

As their laughter faded, the scene shifted towards four individuals being exiled from Kyros to Ithoria:

-A young boy-

-An old man-

-An adult man-

-An adult woman-

The Nightveil incident had brought devastation and chaos, shattering the very foundation of eight continents. Those who had survived for the plague found themselves grasping for power, and in the ensuing turmoil, anyone deemed a threat or an inconvenience was swiftly cast aside. In those continents.

The four exiles had been caught in the crossfire, each for their own reasons:

The young boy

With eyes that gleamed with a mischievous spark.

His hands, though small, were quick and nimble, capable of stealing the most precious jewels and ancient artifacts from under the noses of the most vigilant guards. His name was whispered in the shadows, a legend among thieves. Despite his tender age, his skills in evasion and trickery were unmatched. His past was shrouded in mystery, but one thing was certain: he thrived in the shadows, where the line between right and wrong blurred into insignificance.

The old man

with a beard as white as snow and eyes that had seen countless battles.

His face was lined with the wisdom and weariness of a thousand lifetimes. He was the leader of the group, known as the Dawnbringer. Renowned across the lands for his unwavering sense of justice and remarkable leadership, Dawnbringer was a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness. He had dedicated his life to fighting against the injustices of corrupt governments that wielded too much power. With every wrinkle on his face and scar on his body, there was a story of bravery and defiance. As a former general who had once commanded vast armies, he now led a motley crew of rebels, teaching them that even in the bleakest of times, one must strive to be the light that guides others. The weight of his responsibility was immense, and he carried it with a steadfast resolve, knowing that the fight for justice was a never-ending one.

The adult man

A shadow in the night, with a face hardened by years of merciless killing.

His hands were stained with the blood of countless victims, young and old alike. He was a solo assassin who killed for money, his heart as cold as the steel of his blade. His presence sent shivers down the spines of those who dared cross his path. His reputation preceded him, a ghostly figure whose very name invoked fear.

The adult woman

With eyes that danced with a dangerous fire and a smile that concealed a darkest secret.

She was also a solo assassin, but she did not kill for money. She killed for the sheer pleasure of it, the thrill that coursed through her veins with each life she took. Her beauty was deceptive, a deadly trap for those who fell into her web. She moved with the grace of a predator, her every action calculated and precise. The world saw her as a monster, but to her, it was a dance of death, an art form that she had perfected over the years.

They were exiled to Ithoria because of the devastating Nightveil incident. The fallen continent was considered cursed, a place where people would die the moment they set foot on it.

As they approached the gates of Ithoria, the guard's voice rang out, a mixture of authority and regret.

"You have been deemed a threat to the balance and peace of Kyros. As such, you are exiled to Ithoria. May you find some semblance of redemption in this forsaken land. We are sorry, but this is the will of the council. Hope you lived a life you didn't regret,"

They said, their tone carrying the weight of finality as they opened the gates to Ithoria, sealing their fate.