THE ARKIANS

“What is peace?” a voice asked, calm yet heavy with experience. “I could say no one truly knows what peace is—at least, not until it is lost. Not until problems, disasters, wars, monsters, death, suffering… and countless other horrors come knocking at your door. Our people lived in peace once, and then they came—terrifying, merciless. We had to become monsters ourselves just to survive.”

A pause. Then a deep breath, as if gathering thoughts from a memory too heavy to carry all at once.

“No… I am moving too fast. Let me begin from the very beginning, from the birth of everything we lost, the changes that shaped our world, and how we were forced to become monsters.

Before the coming of the great sorcerer, they were called the Arcadians. They lived freely, in harmony with one another, yet uncivilized by the standards of kingdoms.

Huts dotted the wild lands, families lived without rulers, and their lives flowed quietly under the tacit rules of the neighboring kingdoms. Then, the great sorcerer appeared—from nowhere, it seemed—and changed everything.

He helped the Arcadians build a kingdom, crafting a great city from the untamed land. He found them a leader, who would become their king. He guided them to victory in countless battles against invading kingdoms that sought to crush them.

Under his wisdom and magic, the Arcadians grew strong, and their kingdom rose to lead over all others. Eventually, every other kingdom bowed to the might and glory of the Arcadian realm.

For his immeasurable contributions, the great sorcerer was given a title above all others—second only to the King himself. He was named the Priest, becoming the guardian and guide of the people.

From that first Priest came generations of descendants, each taking up the sacred role and continuing the legacy of the original.

During the reign of King Hamad, peace reigned once more. Life among the kingdoms and their people was calm, orderly, and prosperous—just as it had always been. But peace is fragile.

Hatred erupted among the seven Priests, suddenly and without explanation. No one knew why the once-united leaders turned on one another, nor why they wished each other death. The kingdoms, the people, and even King Hamad himself were stunned.

He tried desperately to quell the hatred, for the Priests were meant to be the face of the kingdom.

The battles that followed were catastrophic. Five of the Priests fell—along with their families—and countless others were caught in the devastation.

The Priests’ magical powers, formidable and unmatched, were unleashed against one another, tearing through lands, cities, and lives.

Only two Priests survived, their power unmatched by any living being. However, they could not coexist. With no one strong enough to stop them, they too turned against each other, and the kingdom trembled under the shadow of their conflict.

During the final battle between the two remaining Priests, the air itself seemed to ignite. Magical forces clashed violently, streaking the sky with blinding light and sending shockwaves across the lands. The two Priests battled relentlessly, a duel that stretched on for hours, each strike shaking the earth beneath them.

The people watched in awe and fear, powerless to intervene, as the clash of power seemed endless. Eventually, though, even the mightiest cannot endure forever. With a final, devastating collision of energy, the two Priests fell. Silence, heavy and profound, settled over the battlefield.

Before their last breaths left them, a brilliant light shot upward from the spot where they fell, ascending to the heavens. The people stared in disbelief as the glow lingered, almost reverent.

And then, a few minutes later, where the light touched the sky, a strange phenomenon appeared—a dark portal, vast and swirling, opening above them.

King Hamad’s heart ached. Grief and sorrow weighed on him like a mountain. The death of the Priests, the guardians of their people, left a void that seemed impossible to fill. Despair spread among the people, who feared that without the Priests, all hope was lost. Yet amid the destruction, King Hamad found the one child who had survived—the sole living bloodline of the great sorcerer.

Taking the child into his care, King Hamad vowed to nurture the last hope of the Priests’ legacy. This child, fragile and young, represented the only chance their world had to endure the coming darkness.

Even as he tended to the child, reports of the strange portal in the sky reached him. At first, King Hamad and his advisors thought it might be a natural phenomenon, perhaps an unusual weather occurrence, and that it would vanish in time.

However, as days turned to weeks, the portal remained, defying every attempt to close it. The child was too young, too powerless to aid him in discovering the truth behind the anomaly.

A gnawing unease settled in King Hamad’s heart. He summoned the other kings, gathering them in council, and revealed the portentous portal. He urged each kingdom to raise a new army, one capable of facing an unknown threat.

The other kings were shocked. They asked, “Why now? Why train armies that were disbanded decades ago, when there is no war, no immediate threat?”

King Hamad’s eyes were grave. He said, “I do not know what awaits us, but I can feel it in my bones. This portal is a warning. You must obey.”

Reluctantly, the other kingdoms followed his command. Each raised and trained soldiers once more, instilling the ways of warriors into their youth.

From that day, those aged seventeen and above were enlisted, and the armies slowly regained their strength. Months passed, then years, and still the portal remained, a silent, foreboding presence in the sky.

Then, one day, as King Hamad held the child—the last living heir of the great sorcerer—in his arms, playing with him to soothe the tension of the years, the child touched the King’s forehead. In that instant, visions flooded King Hamad’s mind. He saw the threat that was soon to emerge from the portal. He saw the scale of the destruction it would bring, the darkness that would sweep across their world. And in the same vision, he glimpsed the only path to survival—the one hope that could allow them to fight back and endure.

Terror gripped him like a vice. The King understood, in that moment, that everything he had done to prepare would soon be tested. And yet, hope remained, fragile and flickering, in the hands of a child.

Seeing what was coming, and knowing what would be needed to survive and ultimately win against the threat, King Hamad summoned the other kings once more. His voice was steady but carried the weight of foreknowledge.

He told them, “You must build walls. Each of you, raise a wall higher than anything you have ever seen or imagined in your history. Battlements, towers, defenses—walls that will surround and protect your kingdoms completely.”

The other kings exchanged uneasy glances. Some whispered among themselves, questioning the King’s sanity. He had already commanded them to raise armies, and now walls—monuments of unimaginable scale? Yet, as always, they had no choice but to obey.

Months passed. Every kingdom had erected a colossal wall, a fortress of stone that dwarfed anything in memory. The skies and lands were calm… but it was only a pause.

Then, from the swirling portal above, they came. Unknown creatures, terrifying in strength and horrifying in form, surged into the villages. They killed without hesitation, tearing through the land with a single-minded mission: to claim the world and exterminate its people. These creatures were named the Arkians.

The great walls and the warriors within became the first line of defense. Battles raged along the battlements, arrows and weapons meeting claws and fangs. The kingdoms survived, but the Arkians never stopped coming. Wave after wave, they assaulted the walls with savagery and relentless ferocity, as if every attack were worth dying for.

Many warriors fell, their lives sacrificed to defend homes and families. Yet the survivors never wavered, never ceased their struggle. The dead bodies of the Arkians were thrown beneath the portal, only for a light to descend each time, lifting them back into the unknown, as if the portal itself reclaimed what it had sent.

Generations passed. From the first who had seen the Arkians to the second, third, fourth, fifth, and now to mine, the onslaught never ended. Though the warriors and kings fought bravely, the Arkians continued to pour from the portal, unyielding in their mission.

Through all this, the kingdoms learned, adapted, and persevered. The Arkians were never faced head-on in open battle; attacks were always launched from the battlements of the great walls.

The warriors grew in number, trained in the finest ways of combat, and studied the enemy tirelessly.

Little was known about the Arkians. They appeared in countless forms, their attacks grew stronger with each defeat, and their motives remained shrouded in mystery. Who or what sent them, why our world was targeted, and whether other worlds existed—all remained unknown.

Even so, through generations of blood and sacrifice, it remained the dream of every young boy to grow up and become a warrior. To take up arms, defend the kingdoms, and stand against the Arkians. To fight, as all who came before had, to protect the home that had endured countless storms of fire, claw, and darkness.

The struggle against the Arkians had become eternal, and yet the flame of hope burned brighter with every generation.

We must also speak of the child—the last living bloodline of the great sorcerer.

During King Hamad’s reign, the child grew into a powerful priest named Holland. From a young age, Holland dedicated himself entirely to the protection of the kingdoms.

He studied the portal relentlessly and sought tirelessly to close it, discovering that it led to a terrifying world—a world from which the Arkians emerged. Yet, despite all his knowledge, power, and efforts, Holland never succeeded in sealing the portal.

Holland fought in countless battles, traveling from kingdom to kingdom, aiding warriors and people in repelling the Arkians. He gathered knowledge, trained new priests, and passed down the secrets he had learned about the portal.

Even in death, Holland’s legacy endured. Though he could not close the portal or uncover all its mysteries, his bloodline continued through his children, ensuring that the line of priests would never vanish.

Before Holland, every male child of a priest would inherit the priestly power. But after his death, the rules changed: only the first and last child of each priest, regardless of gender, could inherit the sacred powers.

Thus, the priestly bloodline continued, adaptable yet protected, ensuring each generation could rise to face the Arkians.

When my father had not yet become King of Arcadian, the Arkians returned once more. This time, they came in a single, unified form—terrifying, powerful, and more horrifying than ever before.

Yet, even against this new horror, the kingdoms prevailed. The great walls, the trained warriors, and the priests fought together, defending the lands as they always had—but, as always, at a cost. Lives were lost, sacrifices made, and yet the kingdoms endured.

The last time the Arkians came, it was during my grandfather’s reign. That was the final battle of my memory, the last time the portal released its horrors upon our world. And now… I wait. Patiently, though my anticipation is fierce.

I have trained long and hard. I have honed my skills, learned the ways of the warriors, studied the Arkians, and prepared for the day they return.

When that day comes, I will be ready. I will stand, sword and magic at the ready, to defend our kingdoms and finally face the enemy that has haunted our world for generations...”