Emptyessence

There is a world. A simple world. Where the good guys beat the bad guys and the magically gifted rule over everyone else. No one questioned the way of things. That was just how it was.

Acrela used to be peaceful with their ways. The slums were dismal and depressing, but the fear of rebellions rising from this anguish was not on anyone’s mind.

That is until a Druid took the throne.

The power of the Druids remained hidden for a long time. They were the seers of the forest, keeping it pure, clean, and safe for all of its inhabitants. There was no question that messing with the many forests in Acrela was a death sentencing.

Their abilities were boundless. They could stop threats by enclosing them in vines and dodge every swing that was sent their way. They could detect the future of anyone that crossed their path and create prophecies that were bigger than anyone might be able to imagine.

There was always doubt in the other creatures of Acrela. Why did the Druids hide in the forest? What abilities did they possess? Why have they only seen Druids when they were delivering a prophecy? What were they hiding?

On the rise of the third moon, a Druid had had enough. The current king, a Water Nymph, did not deserve the throne; using his powers at the expense of others and causing despair to the inhabitants of the Main Kingdom.

Taking a stand, this Druid marched through the gates of the kingdom, glowing with immense power. He walked with authority, the desire to make a chance in this so-called "peaceful" world driving him further and faster ahead.

The cries of his kin echoed in his head as the soothsayer continued into the glittering palace, the marble floors reflecting his essence-aura in glittering patterns on the walls. His tan skin was etched with Druid markings, six coils detected on his chiseled face and hidden marks winding their way down his back as his long hair dragged on the ground behind him. He walked with confidence, the guards of the palace taking a stand to remove this potential threat, but to no avail.

The once bright floors were now slick with crimson blood, the metallic scent trailing after the Druid as he shoved open the doors of the throne room.

It was then that the war was waged between the Nymphs and the Druids. Acrela was soon draped in a veil of bloodshed and shadows, the fear of death keeping everyone indoors. Alliances between the creatures of Acrela were formed and the War of Ages had finally begun.

"He will be born bare,