Shadows of our End

Nearly three centuries ago, the world awoke to catastrophe. It was a day of reckoning, spoken of in countless stories-each describing the sun's disappearance, a world where the abyss consumed everything.

Some tales spoke of a demon descending upon humanity, laying waste to entire cities and bringing civilisation to its knees. Others claimed that the darkness itself turned people mad, breaking even the strongest bonds between families. For months, the world remained shrouded in darkness. Then, something emerged, proclaiming itself the world's saviour, and with its arrival came the light.

From that moment, all stories converged. The aftermath of the collapse was strictly governed by the Oracles, ensuring that none misunderstood the origins of their newfound powers-or the system that granted them. As dawn broke, humanity stood divided. Some awoke transformed, wielding abilities that defied their former limitations. They were called the Ascended.

Yet not all changed. Some remained wholly human, untouched by the darkness, left behind as the world evolved without them. They were called the Pure. The system rejected their integration, and if ever someone possessed power but remained outside its grasp, they were considered divine.

The Oracles framed the Ascended as mortals abandoned by their gods, souls who rose beyond their limitations to become the saviours they once sought. The Pure, however, were regarded as the chosen, destined to receive their god's boon when the time was right.

This division ensured only one thing: hatred. As the years passed, the Ascended multiplied while the Pure faded into obscurity, their numbers dwindling. Now, only a handful remain. And as far as I know, it is just my mother and me.