Even the gods fear what lies within the abyss, for they are of the light which binds the realm, undone by the darkness from the deepest depths.
When the dead rise from the ashes of helpless despair, how do they come to bear with their unnatural existence? They do not, for they are pawns upon a board, serving powers beyond the realm of their own meaning.
For when the world was created by the celestials above, they poured into it the very essence of there being, only the very qualities that would constitute a perfect world. Yet disparity must be honoured, light and dark, good and evil, life and death, order … and Khaos.
For within the flow time lies a constant battle between the disparities, tipping the hourglass and unearthing the legends that were buried in time, long ago. Hence, is the inevitable endurance of the living and the cycle of the Bloodlines.
As time flows through the never-ending hourglass of fate, the legacy of those long-forgotten stay buried beneath the sand. Kingdoms rise and fall into darkness. Like the proverbial ash from the eternal flame that burns deep within the heart of man and beast alike, to be buried deep beneath earth, blood and cinder.
Perhaps it was all coincidence, or possibly fate. But none the less, events were set in motion that would determine the future of all, and that of nothing.
Beware the three sins of old,
Cast into fire the apparition of darkness and deceit,
Right what has been wronged and flourish anew,
For that is the cycle of blood and cinder,
And the weight for which the disparity is burdened