𝕳𝖟𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖆 𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖗𝖔𝖕𝖍𝖟𝖑𝖑𝖆

Unus

Long before the rise of men, before kingdoms and cities sprawled across the earth, there existed a time of darkness. A time where seven demons, each more fearsome than the last, roamed the world of Enktyia unchecked. Their names were once whispered in terror across ancient tongues, their power absolute, and their dominion vast. They fought against the world itself—against the gods, the seas, the stars, and even time. The world trembled beneath their might, and for a long while, it seemed as though nothing could stop their reign.

Venti, the wind demon, whose laughter echoed across the skies, brought storms and tempests wherever he flew.
Zhongli, the earth demon, who could command the very mountains to rise or crumble with a mere thought.
Raiden, the lightning demon, whose fury struck faster than the eye could follow, her power igniting the heavens.
Nahida, the youngest demon, who could control the essence of nature with a snap of her fingers.
Furina, the demon of tides, who could drown entire lands beneath waves of despair.
Focalors, the demon of judgment, cold and unyielding, who decided the fates of the damned.
Mavuika, the demon of shadows, silent and unseen, the whisper in the dark that made even the bravest tremble.
And the Tsaritsa, the queen of frost, whose icy grip could halt the beating hearts of mortals, freezing entire cities in moments.

These seven demons sought nothing but chaos and destruction, for it was in their nature to test the limits of the world, to challenge the very order of creation itself. But their unchecked rampage could not last forever.

The gods, weakened and weary from their battles with the demons, devised a final plan. They would not fight these beasts directly, for such a fight would destroy Enktyia itself. Instead, they crafted seven vessels, each one designed to trap a demon and lock their immense power away. These vessels were not ornate or mighty, for the gods knew that the simplest forms often held the greatest strength. They were mere dolls, tiny and fragile in appearance—hardly fitting prisons for such titans.

The demons laughed at the gods’ attempt. But the laughter soon died as they felt the weight of ancient magic being woven around them. One by one, the demons were drawn into these small vessels, their powers sealed and bound in ways they had never imagined. Venti’s winds were trapped within the porcelain limbs of his doll. Zhongli’s unyielding stone form was encased in clay. Raiden’s lightning was contained within delicate metal threads. Furina, Focalors, Mavuika, and the Tsaritsa were each bound, their essence buried deep within their respective dolls.

And then, the gods, in their last act before they too faded from the world, cast these vessels away. They were scattered across Enktyia, thrown into the oceans, buried beneath mountains, lost in the deepest forests, and hidden in forgotten ruins. The world, still shaken from the demons' reign of terror, began to heal. Civilizations rose and fell. The knowledge of the demons faded into myths, then into nothingness. Over the course of hundreds of thousands of years, they became nothing more than forgotten legends, stories told to frighten children around campfires.

But the demons, though sealed within their vessels, never truly slept.
Even within their small, fragile forms, they saw every second pass. They watched the world evolve, powerless to intervene. They witnessed the rise of humanity, the fall of ancient empires, the creation of new religions, and the destruction of old. The demons saw it all—the slow march of time, the shifting of continents, the wars, the peace, the growth of cities, and the loneliness of forgotten lands.