97 years ago, there was nothing but war. War between four nations. War between different creatures. War within everyone. It didn't matter where it started now.
The Northern, The Southern, The Western and The Eastern. The four nations were divided. Having their own parts in their war.
The vampires, the werewolves, the humans and the demigods. They were divided and mixed in those four nations. They also had their own part.
Bombings, deaths and lost of belief were the aftermath. Those who survived the terrible fate in the war questioned the Gods. The Gods of Olympus who did nothing to protect and stop them.
One day, they finally showed up. The Gods united the four nations. They united all beings. They created the Society. They gave everybody a chance to lead. But that wasn't what really happened.
We were called diablos, creatures of darkness, bringer upon the plague, cursing the land and the reapers of death.
And slowly we lived up to the name.
YOU ARE READING
The Fallen Champions
FantasyThey were victors—champions, even. But slowly it changed and so did they. They're path was slowly tainted by Fates. Fates who toyed with our feelings. Credits to @redblacklady for the cover