The Rose and the Sinbound

Prologue: The Fall of the Enthralls

In the beginning, the Enthralls were boundless, shaping lands and heavens in their image, each woven with the magic of their divine blood. They ruled without fear, for their power was absolute.

Yet power, like petals on the wind, scatters—once lost, it can never fully be reclaimed.

In the abyssal depths of the world, where the ocean swallowed both light and sound, Castiel—God of Sins, Misfortune, and Death—lay imprisoned beneath the ruins of his land, Nephilhelm. His chains were forged by betrayal, crafted by his own brothers: Sorin, Faolan, and Siridean. They could not risk his insatiable greed spreading further after he murdered one of their own, their own brother Lorcan, the god of craftsmanship, and seized control of the Isle of Volkan. In an act of unified desperation, they sank Castiel and his realm beneath the ocean, imprisoning him where no mortal or immortal dared to tread.

For centuries, Castiel festered in his watery grave, rage simmering beneath his cold exterior. The sea whispered stories of the lands he had once coveted—lands now beyond his grasp. Yet even imprisoned, he dreamed of conquest and the return of his dominion. His mortal creations, the men of Nephilhelm, were scattered, fleeing from his fallen realm to distant shores. Their flight led them to the neighboring landmass connected to the Isle of Volkan—Elfhelm, home to the High Fae ruled by Sorin, who Castiel delt a festering curse too entrapping him within his own lands forever unmoving.

But instead of refuge, the humans found slavery. The High Fae looked upon the mortals with disdain, for humans were a race bereft of mana, cursed to walk without magic flowing through their veins. They were given the name "Mundane," a derogatory title that branded them as lesser beings. With no power to resist, they were forced to serve the immortal courts—shackled to an existence of toil, treated as little more than beasts of burden.

The Mundane were forbidden from learning magic, lest they discover the old, dangerous secrets hidden within the lands they tilled. Centuries passed, and the mortals became a forgotten people, their history reduced to myths whispered by firelight. Few remembered that the Mundane were the creations of Castiel, forged with cunning and resilience. Fewer still knew that the god of sins slumbered beneath the sea, plotting his return.

And return he did.

Through dreams that dripped with bitterness and fire, Castiel called out to his followers—a handful of broken, forgotten men who still revered him. Their whispered prayers gave him strength, like sparks feeding a smoldering flame. When the last link of faithbound chain weakened, Castiel broke free. The sea trembled, and the waters boiled as his power unfurled. What had been a watery tomb now became a staging ground for his rebirth.

Nephilhelm rose again, but it was no longer the same realm it had once been. The dragons, demons, and corrupted spirits of his land stirred at his awakening, ready to serve their god once more. Castiel emerged from the depths, his once-pristine soul now blackened by his imprisonment and the weight of the sins he embodied—pride, envy, greed, and wrath burning brightest of all.

He would have his vengeance. He would claim not only the Isle of Volkan but every domain that had betrayed him—Elfhelm, Adrastos, and beyond. This time, even the gods who had bound him would learn the folly of opposing him.

And so, the stage was set: a world divided between gods, Fae, and mortals—a world waiting for the echoes of betrayal to return. For even in the silence of the deepest prisons, the sins of gods fester, and chains are made to be broken. The mortals—his mortals—would rise again. And those who had enslaved them would kneel.