Prologue : The Last Hope of All Creation

Before the first star was born, before time learned how to move, before light and darkness were given names, there existed a place beyond the boundaries of creation.
It was not heaven.
It was not the abyss.
It was a realm where the laws of existence had no authority—a silent expanse where reality itself seemed to hold its breath.
There were no stars in that place. No planets. No wind. No sound.
Yet something was moving through the endless silence.
A figure stood within the darkness.
Its body was difficult to understand. One half appeared to be formed from radiant light, brighter than a thousand suns. The other half was made of living darkness, deeper than the space between galaxies. Neither side destroyed the other. Instead, divinity and darkness existed together within the same being, as if they had once been enemies but had become united by a purpose greater than themselves.
In its arms rested a newborn child.
The infant was silent.
His eyes were closed, and his tiny hands rested peacefully against the figure's chest. He looked completely ordinary—fragile, innocent, and unaware of the vastness surrounding him.
But the space around him trembled.
Far away, unseen forces shifted.
Something had noticed his birth.
The divine-dark being looked toward the emptiness beyond the realm. For the first time, its expression revealed something that even gods rarely experienced.
Fear.
Not fear for itself.
Fear for the child.
A tear of light descended from one eye, while a drop of darkness fell from the other. Before either could reach the ground, they dissolved into countless particles and vanished into the void.
"The time has come," the being whispered.
Its voice carried two tones at once: one gentle and warm, the other ancient and hollow. The sound echoed through the realm without walls.
A circular gate opened before it.
Beyond the gate was a small stone chamber illuminated by flickering candlelight. The room belonged to an old monastery hidden somewhere in a world far beyond Earth. Symbols had been carved into the walls, though many of them had faded with age.
A young nun knelt beside a simple wooden altar, praying in a language that had not been spoken on Earth for thousands of years.
Suddenly, the candles went out.
The nun raised her head.
A strange pressure filled the room. The air became heavy, and the shadows on the walls stretched toward the center of the chamber.
Then the gate appeared.
The divine-dark being stepped through it.
The nun froze.
She could not move. She could not speak. Every instinct within her urged her to bow, flee, or close her eyes—but she did not know which response would keep her alive.
The being approached her and held out the child.
"Take him."
The nun stared at the infant.
"Who… who is he?" she asked, her voice trembling.
The being did not answer immediately.
Instead, it looked down at the child with an expression that seemed almost sorrowful.
"He is a soul that has already lost one life," it said. "And he will soon begin another."
The nun slowly reached out her arms.
The moment she accepted the newborn, the pressure in the room weakened. The strange gate behind the being began to collapse.
"Listen carefully," the being continued. "You must raise him as an ordinary child. Conceal his origin. Conceal his nature. Do not allow anyone to discover what he is."
The nun looked down at the sleeping infant.
"What danger could threaten a child?"
The being's luminous eye dimmed.
"Not a danger."
The darkness surrounding its other eye stirred.
"Many."
A low vibration passed through the monastery. The symbols carved into the walls briefly glowed, then cracked.
The nun tightened her hold on the child.
"Why are you giving him to me?"
The being turned toward the closing gate.
"Because those who seek him cannot be allowed to find him."
"And if they do?"
The being paused.
Its answer came quietly.
"Run. Do not try to protect the monastery. Do not try to fight them. Take the child and flee."
The nun's face paled.
"Who is he?"
For a moment, the being looked directly into her eyes.
"This child may be the last hope of all creation."
The final words seemed to shake the foundations of the monastery.
Then the gate vanished.
The figure disappeared.
The candles reignited one by one.
Silence returned to the chamber.
Only the newborn remained.
The nun stared at him for a long time. The child's face was peaceful, untouched by the fear that had entered her heart.
Outside the monastery, the night sky began to change.
Beyond the clouds, an unfamiliar star opened its pale eye.
Two moons slowly emerged from the darkness.
And somewhere beyond the horizon, beneath a sky that Earth had never known, the first rays of two suns began to rise.
The child opened his eyes.
For a single instant, something immeasurable seemed to move within them.
Then it vanished.
The nun held him closer.
"What should I call you?" she whispered.
The child gave no answer.
But far beyond the boundaries of that world, something ancient had already awakened.
And the arrival of the child had begun.