The Beginning

In the beginning, there were four Engineers. They walked across the vast grey wasteland that was the world—endless, barren, without form or purpose.

But within them burned the desire to create. Together, they conceived the Great Design: vast oceans with unending depths, forests where trees would grow tall as mountains, the wheeling stars and bright sun, the cycle of night and day. They envisioned fire and flood, growth and decay, and most precious of all—life itself. In their minds took shape all manner of creatures: elves with their timeless grace, humans with their fierce hearts, dryads of the endless forests, sirens calling from the deeps, and many more.

Yet for all their planning, the world remained only blueprint and dream. No ocean could flow, no tree could grow, no creature could draw breath—for the world lacked a soul to animate it, a heart to beat the rhythm of life.

The Engineers understood the price of creation: to give life to their design, they would have to sacrifice their own. They would never walk in the forests they imagined nor see the stars, or feel the warmth of the sun. They would never meet the people — their children — who would inherit the world. But this sacrifice, they embraced willingly.

Before their final work, the Engineers shaped twelve gods—the Enlightened—immortal beings powerful enough to inherit the Great Design and wise enough to guide the world thereafter. Each would govern their own domain, yet all were meant to work in harmony, as the Engineers themselves had done.

At last, all was prepared. The Great Forge stood ready, its anvils bearing the sleeping forms of the twelve gods, waiting to be awakened by the Engineers’ final sacrifice.

The Engineers raised their hammers and struck—not against metal, but against the very essence of their being. As their souls scattered like sparks through the waiting world, fragments of their divine essence settled into the hearts of the sleeping gods.

And so the Enlightened awakened, inheritors of both design and purpose, ready to shape the world from dream into reality.

The Creation

The Enlightened appeared as humans, though perfected beyond mortal beauty. They possessed a noble bearing that spoke of their divine origins—tall and graceful, with eyes that held the wisdom of ages and voices that could command both mountain and sea. Though all could assume any form they wished, they favored the human shape above all others.

Before them stretched an empty world, waiting to be filled. They carried within their awakened hearts the fragments of the Great Design, and knew their purpose: to make real what the Engineers had dreamed.

Yet, they could not fully understand the instructions left by the Engineers. They wished they would be able to just ask their makers for guidance, for advice. But they were alone in this world, and had to make do with what little they knew.

All departed the Great Forge to begin their work, but when they later tried to return, they found they could no longer locate it. The Forge was lost to them, with all the knowledge gathered within.

Instead, each god went forth to claim a domain and began the great work of creation. Mountains rose at their command, seas carved their boundaries, and forests spread their green canopies. When at last the world was ready, all living souls awakened to find their home prepared.

Then did each of the Enlightened build great cities within their domains, centers of power and beauty. From this time forward, they would also be called the Radiant, for they brought light, glory, and prosperity to all lands under their rule and protection.

And so, the Radiant were as follows:

• Ferie, the Fair Lady, who wove the stars and shaped the moon. In the green fields of her realm she raised a great city, the most beautiful one of all. She was the most skilled in the art of magic among all the gods.
• Aurelia, Queen of the Sun, who built a flying palace that soars eternal through the heavens. Wielding spear and shield, she hunts evil and chaos, protecting us from harm.
• Nyvx, Master of Illusions, dwelling in his castle of shifting shadows. All hidden places and things that are not what they seem are his domain.
• Aethel, called the Equilibrium, perhaps the most powerful of all the Radiant. She commands the forces of heat and cold, and only she is able to break the balance between them. She has built her city amid the ice-crowned peaks of the far north.
• Aeledric, Lord of Fire, master of flame’s destructive might. He often takes the form of a great dragon, which suits him better than that of a human.
• Adwyn, who embodies fire’s life-giving aspect—the hearth flame, the forge fire, the spark that kindles new growth from old. Hers is the season of autumn, when things die to be born again.
• Thalassos of the Deep, greatest warrior and strategist among the Radiant. His domain is the largest, spanning all of the realm’s oceans. He has no single dwelling but moves freely through the depths he rules.
• Selevain, beloved of the forests, who raised his city among the great trees. The elves honor him above all other gods. He has saved many lives as he is the greatest healer in our world.
• Veriael, the Storm-Rider, fierce and wild as the tempests she commands. She is the Radiant of the hunt and vengeance, both feared and revered.
• Nummeroth, the Weather-Weaver, who governs the weather, the clouds, and the sky.
• Turiel, guardian of the deep places within the earth, master of stone and the treasures hidden in darkness.
• Parsifal, the Forgemaster. He was the one to stay in the Forge the longest, and mastered the art of craftsmanship. Grand feasts, festivals and parties are held in his halls.

Where all their domains converged, the Radiant raised The Axis—a capital city of impossible grandeur. Here they would gather in council when great matters demanded their collective wisdom. Though their own cities were magnificent, the greater part of mortalkind chose to dwell in The Axis, drawn by its central position and the convergence of divine power. A network of portals connected all the great cities, allowing swift travel and trade across the vast distances of the world.

That was the Golden Age of our world.

Never would the gods create anything like that again.

The First Humans

The first two humans to awaken were brother and sister. They found themselves at the gates of The Axis.

They were called Ester and Seraphiel.

Their awakening came as a surprise to the Enlightened, who had not expected life to stir so quickly in their newly-wrought world. Yet they welcomed the siblings with joy and taught them all they knew of creation—the names of stars, the songs of growing things, the ways of wind and water.

It is in human nature to be curious, to grasp for understanding beyond the mind’s reach, to seize the infinite and make the impossible bow to mortal will. Where the Twelve possessed an intuitive mastery of the world’s laws—able to bend reality as easily as breathing—the two humans studied these same forces with relentless dedication. They dissected each principle, mapped every current of power, and in their hunger for knowledge, they dared to explore even the forbidden arts that the Enlightened had set aside.

Soon the whole of creation stirred to life around them—forests breathing their first winds, oceans finding their rhythm, countless creatures taking their first steps. And it was beautiful beyond words.

The two siblings walk this world still. Though not blessed with the Twelve’s immortality, neither shows any sign of age. They are one of the few mortals who remember the Shattering.

They have become the greatest wizards the world has ever known.

Ester is a warrior without equal. She has never known defeat, armed with her eternal scythe—an artifact of her own making that hungers for battle. In the darkest hours, when all hope seems lost, heroes call upon her aid. No matter how dire the circumstances, no matter how impossible the odds, she emerges victorious. Only death awaits those who dare stand against her.

Seraphiel is the master strategist, the architect of impossible victories. He has built his own city, a marvel of both magic and craft, defended by legions of Golems—animate guardians born from his will alone. Under his wise governance, the city prospers as a beacon of learning and power, ruled by his steady hand and brilliant mind.

The Rot

One of the Twelve went missing. Turiel, whose domain had been the deep places of the earth, simply vanished without trace or word. The Enlightened were immortal—their hearts would beat forever, their essence bound to the world itself. That one could simply disappear was beyond all understanding. They searched the breadth of creation, from the highest peaks to the ocean’s depths, but found no sign of their lost brother.

Centuries passed. Perhaps in their grief, or perhaps in their inexperience as guardians, the remaining Enlightened grew distant from the world. They had inherited the Great Design but not the Engineers’ instinctive knowledge of how to tend it. Creation, left to its own devices, began to falter.

Then came the reports from across the world—whispers telling of the encroaching darkness. A blight had taken root in the far corners of the earth. The Rot, as it came to be known, devoured everything it touched. Forests withered to grey dust, rivers ran black with corruption, and all living things sickened and died in its presence. Nothing could cleanse it, nothing could halt its spread.

The Eleven who remained finally understood: they had failed as stewards. In their absence, in their ignorance of how to properly tend the world, this corruption had taken hold.

Desperate, they gathered at The Axis and forged the most terrible spell ever conceived—a fire that would burn with such intensity it could unmake creation itself, reducing even the Rot to absolute nothingness. They called it by many names: the Flames of Unmaking, the Voidfire, the Endflame. It was pure destruction, capable of burning through reality until nothing remained. What was once touched by this fire, would never stop burning.

Yet even as they prepared to unleash this terrible remedy, the Eleven recognized its danger. Such power could not be trusted to any one of them—not even to all of them together, for grief and desperation had already clouded their judgment once.

And so they created Justice Incarnate, a being to whom they would all answer. She stood twice the height of a mortal, her face wrought of gleaming metal—beautiful yet impassive, showing neither mercy nor malice, only perfect, unwavering judgment. She was precision given form, mathematical law made manifest.

In her hands they placed a great scythe, forged in imitation of Ester’s own eternal scythe, but with one crucial difference—this weapon alone could end the life of a god. It would be drawn only if one of the Enlightened themselves threatened the world’s survival.

Only then did they unleash the Voidfire upon the Rot.

From that day forward, Justice has guided not only the Enlightened, but all who seek righteousness. She dwells in a realm parallel to ours, where eternal order reigns and mathematical precision governs all reality. Her temples serve as courts throughout the world, her priests as judges who render verdicts with perfect wisdom and fairness. Whether judging the actions of gods or mortals, her justice remains absolute and true, ensuring that law serves not as oppression but as protection for all who dwell beneath her watchful gaze.

Thus ended the Golden Age, and soon the Shattering came.

The Shattering

The world was an intricate machine, a perfect creation born from the Engineers’ Great Design. It existed as a multidimensional manifold—twelve domains arranged in perfect symmetry around The Axis, each reflecting and balancing the others. To mortal perception, it might have resembled a vast hourglass, but its true form transcended any shape the mind could fully grasp.

For ages, this cosmic architecture held firm, each domain flowing seamlessly into the next, the whole greater than the sum of its divine parts.

Then came the day when everything shattered.

A web of fractures spread across reality itself, like cracks in a crystal. Where these breaks appeared, impenetrable fog appeared—a grey void that severed the realm into isolated islands. The perfect symmetry was broken, the unified world torn into countless fragments.

Some pieces remained vast as continents, others small as villages. Each shard floated alone in the endless mist, cut off from all others. The very fabric of existence had been torn, breaking the world apart.

Much of the world was lost forever in that moment. Yet two things saved the realm from complete doom.

The first was the ancient network of portals that had once connected the great cities—gateways built in ages past for convenience and trade. Now they became lifelines, the only bridges spanning the void between the scattered fragments.

The second salvation came from those rare souls who could walk between the layers of reality itself. Led by the First Humans, Ester and Seraphiel, they mapped what remained of the broken world and forged new portals, trying to make the world whole again.

But the task was beyond even their great power. Many fragments remain lost in the mist, their fates unknown. We cannot say what became of those isolated pieces, of the people who lived there. They drift somewhere in the grey between, beyond our reach, perhaps forever.

And now we live in a shattered world. The gods, meant to work together in harmony, no longer speak to one another. Every one of them has fortified themselves within their domain, rarely venturing beyond their borders or acknowledging their siblings’ existence. The Axis has fallen to ruin, no longer a place of council but an empty monument to what was lost. As the cities governed by the Radiant grew ever more splendid, darkness and evil rose in places where their gaze would not reach.

What was once whole now lies broken. Where once Twelve walked as one, now only Eleven remain divided. Where once perfect order reigned, now chaos seeps through every crack.

The gods have abandoned their duty to petty rivalries and bitter isolation. Now each cares only for themselves and their own domain

We will never be able to see what the Engineers’ Great Design truly was meant to become. We can only make the most of the fractured world that we have inherited—picking up the pieces, forging new connections across the void, and holding fast to whatever beauty we can still create.

We live in a Shattered World. It was never meant to be like this.