PROLOGUE

“The darkness of the heart is but a reflection of its purity, for both exist within every soul that walks the realm of mortality. Yet in time, that reflection will reach its pinnacle—a moment that reveals the truth: the heart is nothing more than an object, fragile enough to shatter at the slightest touch. Whether shadowed or radiant, the heart remains bound to its purpose. And at the end of that path, only two destinations await: happiness… or suffering.”

For nearly a thousand years, Univeros had been consumed by an unending chaos, a conflict no hand could resolve. What began as strife between four races grew fiercer with every passing year. Poverty, death, and hunger became one with their daily life. Misery spread like plague, life itself turned into a living hell, and the stench of blood clung to every breath they drew.

There were four races.

The Angelir—renowned for their grace—bore white wings upon their backs, glowing faintly whenever they summoned their inner energy, their core.

The Commador, stalwart laborers. Perhaps the weakest in gift, for they wielded no special power, yet they possessed unyielding stubbornness. Since the sundering, they had ceaselessly fueled the flames of war through their relentless propaganda.

The Betagir, a people of brilliant intellect and invention. Once part of the Commador, they broke away after irreconcilable disputes and became innovators in every field.

And the Devilor, marked by the horns upon their heads. Like the Angelir, they too had wings—but theirs were black, leathery like a bat’s, and from their spines trailed long tails tipped with leaf-shaped ends. Known for their arrogance and formidable strength, they were feared by all.

These four races had long clashed over reasons absurd and petty—differences in creed, in daily bread, in garments, and in the smallest matters of life. A history of enmity passed down from one generation of rulers to the next, until it hardened into a belief: that leadership itself demanded the perpetuation of hatred, and that to govern was to despise and reject all others.

And it is from this world, torn and divided, that the tale begins.