Princess of the Phrost (the miniseries): Creation

Saving the Saviors

During earth's earliest moments, before time itself was measured, the creatures of darkness reigned supreme. In the seemingly endless night, it was fear that fueled the evil slowly consuming the earth. The land was barren, its inhabitants ignorant and nearly extinct as creatures of the night tore through the masses in an endless bloodlust. The Seekers watched in disgust as the people cowardly killed themselves to avoid their fates or offered sacrifices in exchange for peace until one small village banded together and fought back.

The Seekers were the three spirits charged with watching over the world. There could only ever be three, and once a new seeker was chosen the one to be replaced was relieved from their watch and released to the realm of the Gods. The seekers took no solid form though they were all once human, a living record of humanities achievements and failures since the time of the first man. Alpha, the beginning, a representation of all that ever was. Omega, the end, represented all that could be. In charge of them both was the Great Spirit RaFea, who represented all things in between. The Great Spirit was the most revered. RaFea knew the truth behind every lie, hidden inside of every secret, the bridge between the future and the past though they were not omniscient. Legends and lore suggested that once a seeker ascended, they were stripped of their humanity allowing them to survey the realm free of emotion, but after decades of nothing but destruction and death; the great spirit took pity on the mortals. The Seekers given orders were to simply witness but not intervene, to record but not change fate. Rules that RaFea, with time, learned could be manipulated.

"The Gods would show us no mercy" Alpha warned. It was RaFea who wished to aid the village of Zelaria in their fight, to give them a real chance to survive.

"Giving them the tools wouldn't change their fates, what they chose to do with them will" RaFea insisted.

The Zelarians were strong, fierce people with skin in every shade of brown, who in a short time had learned much about the creatures terrorizing the world around them. The Vespertines who survived on blood but could not survive the rays of the sun. The first discovered trying to snatch a newborn in the night, they favored children, the younger the better. Newly elected, Cyran, the chief and first of the Zelarians to kill a supernatural, held the creature in the village square for questioning. The entire town watched in horror as the captive burned alive with the rising of the sun.

"It's newly turned, yet to see its first full moon" Cyran observed after capturing the creature.

Cyran was a stocky man with an average build, his angular features and cold stare made him appear surly and unapproachable, but he was said to be a fun and loving man. His locs the color of ravens' wings kissed the top of his broad shoulders beautifully contrasting his rich mocha skin. His hands were calloused and rough from the many years of not only farming but war, his voice commanding but soft as he instructed his son Aymon on how to properly restrain a vesper.

"Where are its fangs?" Aymon asked, nodding when told a vesper didn't get their fangs until their first year. Cyran and his wife Celaena were responsible for nearly all known information about the supernatural's plaguing their lands. Shifters who broke their bones, transforming into savage beasts under the full moon and the demons who wore the skin of men. Demons took form by first consuming the predisposed host's soul allowing them to retain the memories. Most who fell prey were of simple mind or grieving. The soul leech then took up residence within the body and integrated into society. There were few who simply blended in, only wanting to escape their fates within hell's realms but most followed the wishes of their masters.

"You must be careful Aymon, in this form demons are nearly indistinguishable from us so be sure to look everyone in the eyes; Skinwalkers have orange eyes" Cyran warned his own son who'd spent his every waking moment in his father's shadow. When allowed. Aymon wanted nothing more than to make his father proud and bring honor to their name. Skinwalkers were also unable to procreate.