Before the beginning

***The First War***

The stars trembled as the gods gathered upon the Celestial Throne, their luminous forms casting a glow upon the endless void. The balance of creation had been shattered, and the world stood on the edge of ruin. The war between the realms had left scars that even time could not heal.

From their thrones above existence, the gods looked upon the five realms—Zipara, Oaky, Rafina, Earth, and Toaf—each standing alone, severed from one another. Where once harmony had flourished, now there was only division and silence. The gods had done what was necessary, breaking the realms apart to stop the war. But even they knew it was not a permanent solution.

"The cycle will begin again," spoke Zytharion, Guardian of Destiny, his voice echoing through the cosmos. "Mortal hearts thirst for power. One day, a force will rise to reunite the realms—through peace or through war."

The gods turned toward the great Book of Eternity, its golden pages shifting as though alive. The book contained the past, the present, and the possible futures of existence. And there, in its ever-moving words, a prophecy had begun to form.

"When the realms drift once more toward unity, when the chains of separation weaken, two shall be born beneath the same stars—one of magic, one of knowledge. They shall hold the power of KURAT, the key to creation and destruction. If they stand together, the realms may be saved. If they stand apart, ruin shall claim all."

The gods watched as the prophecy inscribed itself into the fabric of reality, binding itself to the fate of the world. But prophecy alone could not stop what was coming.

"We must leave behind a force capable of guiding them," whispered Almira, Goddess of Balance, her celestial form shimmering as she lifted her hand. The power of KURAT—the greatest magic the world had ever known—began to take form. It was a force beyond mere spells or technology. It was the raw essence of creation, holding the power to shape reality itself.

KURAT was meant to be a gift, a safeguard against destruction. But in the wrong hands, it could bring an end greater than the war that had shattered the realms.

"This power must only be given to the chosen ones," Orenth, God of Time, decreed. "Two souls bound by fate—one from the realm of Earth, where knowledge and machines reign, and one from the realm of Oaky, where magic runs in the blood."

The gods sealed the prophecy into the world itself, embedding it into the very essence of time.

And then, as their final act, they withdrew from mortal affairs. No longer would the gods directly shape the world. Their time was over—now, it was up to the chosen ones to either save the realms… or bring about their ultimate destruction.

Years turned into centuries. The prophecy became legend, then myth, and finally, it was forgotten. The five realms continued their existence, unaware of the fate that loomed in their future.

But the gods had not lied.

In the distant lands of Oaky, a princess would soon be born—a girl with the blood of kings and the power of KURAT hidden within her veins. Her name would be Zypharain.

On Earth, a child would grow up in a world of machines, orphaned yet destined for greatness. She would find her magic not through blood, but through discovery. Her name would be Wendall.

And far away, in the dark lands of Toaf, another force stirred. Tyoran, the shadow in the night, the child of the vampires, sought power beyond his reach. He had seen the prophecy in forgotten scrolls, and he knew one truth—whoever controlled the wielders of KURAT would control the fate of the realms.

The cycle had begun again. The war that had once shattered the world was coming back.

And this time, there would be no gods to stop it.

Before the war, there was a time of unity—a golden age when all five realms existed as one. Zipara, Oaky, Rafina, Earth, and Toaf were not separate lands but interconnected parts of a great empire, ruled by an alliance of kings, scholars, and magic wielders.

The people of Zipara tamed the great dragons, using their power to protect the skies. Oaky, though small, was home to the most powerful warriors and mages. Rafina, with its vast oceans, held the wisdom of the mermaids and the foresight of the seers. Earth, the realm of technology, built machines beyond imagination. And Toaf, a land of shadows, was home to the nightwalkers—the vampires who preferred to remain unseen but held secrets older than time.

Magic and science coexisted, and the world flourished. But as history had proven time and again, peace is fragile.

The war began not with armies, but with whispers.

One of the ruling kings, King Dorian of Oaky, had grown restless. He was not satisfied with ruling a portion of the world—he wanted it all. He looked upon the dragons of Zipara, the mermaids of Rafina, the weapons of Earth, and the shadow-wielders of Toaf, and he saw not allies, but threats.

"The realms are divided by weakness," he proclaimed. "A true ruler does not share power. A true ruler unites."

At first, his words were ignored. But then, another voice joined him—a darker one. Lord Veyron, ruler of Toaf, saw an opportunity. He had long sought to expand the reach of the vampires beyond their hidden realm. With Dorian's ambition and Toaf's dark magic, they began to spread their influence.

Oaky's warriors and Toaf's nightwalkers moved in secret, claiming territories under the guise of "protection." The kings of Rafina, Zipara, and Earth watched with growing unease. They knew war was coming.

And then, the first battle was fought.

****

Rafina was the first to suffer. The mermaids, known for their wisdom and foresight, had long warned of coming darkness. But they had no armies, no weapons of war—only their magic.

Dorian's forces, armed with both Oaky's battle magic and Toaf's shadow-wielders, invaded Rafina's cities. They burned Tupin, crushed Rain, and laid siege to Fusha, drowning the seers in their own visions of doom.

The mermaids fought back with storms and water magic, but they were outnumbered. By the time the battle ended, Rafina was no longer a kingdom—it was a graveyard.

The war had begun.

The attack on Rafina did not go unnoticed. King Eldros of Zipara, ruler of the dragons, swore vengeance.

From the volcanic mountains of Zipara, the dragons descended in waves, their fire scorching the armies of Oaky and Toaf. The nightwalkers, vulnerable to sunlight, hid in the shadows, while Oaky's warriors fought bravely but were no match for the might of the dragons.

For a time, it seemed Zipara would win. But then, Dorian and Veyron revealed their final weapon—the Forbidden Spell of Night and Blood.

This dark magic, drawn from the ancient texts of Toaf, granted its users power beyond mortal limits. It made warriors faster, stronger, immune to pain. But it had a terrible cost—it fed on life itself. The more it was used, the more it consumed.

The spell was unleashed upon Zipara.

The skies, once filled with dragons, turned black with corruption. The fire of the great beasts dimmed, their wings turning to ash. One by one, the dragons fell, their bodies crashing into the earth, leaving behind craters of destruction.

Zipara, the mightiest of the realms, fell.

As the war raged, Earth remained neutral. The scholars of Earth saw magic as unpredictable, unscientific. They believed their machines and weapons could protect them from the chaos of the other realms.

But when Zipara fell, Earth realized it was next.

King Dorian, now more powerful than ever, turned his armies toward Earth. But this time, he underestimated his enemy.

The humans of Earth did not wield magic, but they had something else—technology.

Earth's armies launched their own attack. AI war machines, metal warriors, and energy cannons met the magic of Oaky and the darkness of Toaf. For the first time, magic and technology clashed, and the world trembled beneath their battle.

Neither side won. The destruction was too great.

Realizing that if the war continued, nothing would be left, the leaders of the remaining realms called upon the gods. They pleaded for intervention, for salvation.

And the gods listened.

In a single moment, the war ended—not because of a victory, but because the gods themselves severed the world apart.

The great landmass was shattered, split into five separate realms. The connections that once bound them were severed. Portals collapsed, roads turned to dust, and oceans formed where once there was land.

No army could invade another realm. No kingdom could wage war across worlds.

The gods had chosen separation over destruction.

The Aftermath

Dorian was slain, his ambition ending with him. Toaf, though still powerful, withdrew into the shadows once more. Rafina, Zipara, and Earth began to rebuild, but the scars of war remained.

The world had changed forever.

But the gods knew their work was not done. The cycle of power, war, and destruction would not stop. One day, the barriers would weaken. One day, someone would try to reunite the realms—through war or peace.

That was why the prophecy had been made.

That was why the KURAT magic had been left behind.

For the day would come when two would rise—one from magic, one from technology.

And when that day came, the fate of the realms would once again hang in the balance.