Solo

Prologue

The year was 1780. Times were tough. The four nations of the world were in the middle of a war over power of a sacred stone. Embedded in the stone was a spell that could turn the tide of humanity as we knew it, and could only be activated by someone pure of heart. But change was already afoot.

A young child, barely 13, had run away from the bunker in which his nation's people now lived, having been pushed back by the enemy. He snuck in the shadows to avoid the eyes of the enemy. The child ran and ran, day in day out, living on scraps of food that the enemy had left behind as they advanced on the child's bunker. 

After a while, he stopped finding food. After seven days without food and barely any water, he stumbled and fell down a large chasm. The child landed with a dull thud. As he slowly came to, he stood and saw a shimmering light at the bottom of a small pool of water that he had landed next to. He dove into the water, and grabbed the stone.

As he touched it, small inscriptions on the stone began to glow a bright white. Strands of pure light swirled around the child, and lifted him up to the sky. It set him down right where he was before falling. The sounds of bombs and the clashing of swords and other weapons woke him from his daze.

A being began his descent to the Earth, his white, strangely marked eyes looking down on the humans fighting one another. Slowly, all of the nations stopped fighting to look at the graceful being floating from the sky. The magic stone brought the child to the being.

"What is your greatest wish, young one?" the being asked in a deep voice. The child thought for a second. "I'd like this war to be over, and for everyone to stop fighting," the child replied. The being smiled. "Your wish is my command," the being said. The child floated back to the ground, and the stone turned to dust. A bright light emanated from the being, sweeping over the entire planet.

When the child woke up, he was laying in his bed, in his house, in his town, in his nation. He looked out the window. Everyone was bustling about, going about their everyday business. The buildings were no longer rubble. The nation was no longer a warzone. There was peace.

Not long after, the first person to wield a magical eye was born. These eyes were white in color, with dotted markings. This man could control his surroundings. He could manipulate terrain, control people's minds, amongst many other abilities. He was like a god. Then that man had children, four to be exact. One had red eyes with bands; one had blue eyes with bands and dots, one had yellow eyes with a metallic sheen, as if the eyes were the sun itself; and one had eyes that were black as night, when not in use, but glowed a sinister purple and had bands an dots, just like the blue eyes. These children grew up to be the heads of the four nations, and their eyes descended from child to child. As these eyes got more common, people that had magical abilities but didn't have the eyes began to be born. By the early 2000's, 90% of people could use at least low level magic. The eyes stayed in the four nations, who had decreased to less than a quarter of the population due to the uprise of new countries and nations.