Power shaped Arcanis, but corruption shaped its fate.
This truth was not written at the world's beginning—
Arcanis learned it only when its light first met the shadow.
In the early ages, Arcanis was a realm guided by Pure Energy,
a force that flowed through rivers, forests, and the hearts of every living being.
Life thrived because the world itself breathed with balance.
At the center of civilization stood the great continent of Kyrion.
Its five kingdoms—Valdor, Sorena, Talonfire, Drekhal, and Zephreon—
each shaped their culture through a unique expression of Pure Energy.
Valdor forged strength from the iron winds.
Sorena healed through shining currents of light.
Talonfire wielded flame as discipline and purpose.
Zephreon bent mist into visions and illusions.
And Drekhal listened to the primal instincts of nature.
For centuries, these kingdoms believed they understood the world.
They believed they were safe.
They believed Pure Energy was the only path Arcanis could ever follow.
They were wrong.
---
THE NIGHT THAT BROKE THE SKY
Hidden beneath Kyrion's forests, a small faction rose in secrecy—
the Void Harvesters.
They were scholars, mystics, and outcasts obsessed with a single idea:
"If there is creation, there must be its opposite."
To them, Pure Energy was not the final truth.
They believed a deeper, older power slept beyond the veil of reality.
And so, one silent night,
they performed a forbidden ritual
that was never meant for mortal hands.
Symbols burned into the earth.
Their voices merged into a trembling chant.
The wind stilled.
The world listened.
Then the sky cracked open.
It was not lightning.
Not starlight.
It was a wound in existence itself.
From the tear came a sound—
a slow, heavy heartbeat:
Thud… thud… thud…
Ancient.
Foreign.
Unmistakably alive.
A fragment of darkness fell through the rift,
struck the ground,
and erased the Void Harvesters in a burst of silent ash.
But the fragment survived.
Where it landed, the earth changed.
Pure Energy twisted as if recoiling in fear.
The ground split apart,
and from it rose a plant that should never have existed.
---
THE RISE OF CORRUPTION
Its roots pulsed like veins.
Its surface absorbed light instead of reflecting it.
And at its center beat a faint, poisonous rhythm.
Vorthaelís Root—
the first heart of Corruption.
Everything it touched began to alter.
Life did not die;
it reshaped into forms unfamiliar and distorted.
Pure Energy, once perfect and steady,
shivered under this new opposing force.
The corruption spread slowly at first,
then with growing hunger.
Within years, the entire island
lost its identity and became something else—
a land where the ground felt alive,
the air carried a metallic taste,
and the sky itself seemed dimmer.
This forsaken place would be known as:
Mordrael Isle — the cradle of corruption.
---
A WORLD DIVIDED
From that moment,
Arcanis split into two realities:
Kyrion, still standing bright under Pure Energy,
confident, flourishing, unaware.
And Mordrael, a wounded land
where corruption grew like an unending storm.
Between them lay countless Minor Islands,
each under the rule of one of Kyrion's kingdoms—
peaceful, quiet, and completely unaware
of the darkness spreading beyond the sea.
One of these islands was destined to matter more than the rest.
---
WULFEN STRAIT — A QUIET ISLAND WITH A QUIET SECRET
A small territory under Drekhal Kingdom,
known for its forests, simple villages,
and people who lived closely with nature.
They believed the world outside remained stable.
They believed their isolation was protection.
They believed corruption was only a distant myth.
But Wulfen Strait carried a thread that would eventually
tie the fate of all Arcanis into a single path.
That thread lived in the form of a boy.
---
ALARIC VORN — THE ONE WHO HEARD THE UNHEARD
Fourteen-year-old Alaric Vorn
looked ordinary to anyone who met him—
quiet, thoughtful, almost reserved.
But he carried a rare gift:
Beast-Sensing.
He could feel the emotions and presence of creatures around him.
Fear, agitation, calm—
everything reached him like quiet whispers.
The villagers believed he would grow into
a talented Beast-Tamer,
a respected role in their culture.
Yet Alaric's gift reached farther than anyone realized.
Sometimes, without warning,
he sensed faint tremors—
as if the world itself shuddered beneath its surface.
A distant pulse.
A hollow echo.
A whisper that did not belong to animals
or forests
or even to the safe world he thought he lived in.
He couldn't explain it.
He didn't understand it.
But the truth was simple:
A force born from corruption
had already begun to stir beyond the horizon.
And sooner than anyone imagined,
it would reach Wulfen Strait.
Because in the end—
Power shaped Arcanis.
But corruption…
corruption would shape Alaric's fate.