~A Month Later
It was the early hours of the evening and the sun had just descended beneath the horizon, leaving in its wake the last vestiges of daylight before the night itself would come.
It was a special night in Nirvana's Depths, the central stronghold of the resistance.
A night that was much anticipated by the younger generation as it was one of the few nights they would be able to delight in the tales of the times past.
The Iron Oracle was a highly respected man in Nirvana's Depths, a revered leader of the resistance and also one of the oldest existing warlocks, a man who had witnessed the passing of many centuries and the events through them.
He was an elderly man, bent from age and he did not have so much free time away from his duties, even so, every fortnight, he never failed to gather the younger generation in the Moon Grooves, enthralling them in tales of the past.
Young children between the ages of five to twelve summers and even those in the early teenage years could be seen making their way to the Moon Grooves in a rush, hoping to secure a comfortable spot before the Iron Oracle would arrive and begin the tale of the night.
This time, the Iron Oracle was already seated on the large rock by the tree which was his usual spot and a crowd of children had long gathered, eagerly awaiting the tale for the night.
The Iron Oracle waited for a short time more till he knew most of the children were already gathered, the rest were still welcome to join the crowd in the course of the tale.
"There, there now... our time is far gone, we must begin now." The Iron Oracle began, clearing his throat slightly which did nothing to smoothen his hoarse, scratchy voice.
A young female by the oracle's side was quick to pass a cup of water to the oracle so he could soothe his dry throat.
The oracle took large gulps, emptying the cup in just a few gulps after which he cleared his throat to continue.
"Revered Oracle, what is today's tale going to be?" A young, eager six year old asked, her tiny fangs gleaming as she smiled brightly.
"Today, I shall continue the tale of the Great War from where we left off the last time." The Iron Oracle announced, his words eliciting even more excitement from his great and eager audience.
"Can anyone remind me where the tale of our last encounter ended?" The Iron Oracle asked curiously.
"Yes! Yes! The final battle began!" A young feral-kin eagerly reminded from the back.
"Silence now, lend me your ears my little ones, only he who knows the tales of the past can find his own place in shaping the future of our kind." The Iron Oracle continued,
His tone dropped to a hauntingly low tone range as he leaned forward, the glows from the large bonfire illuminating his wrinkled face.
"Indeed the final battle of the gruelling war ended as was predicted. The five races suffered a great defeat...but the army of Nether-Night were not so lucky either. It was the greatest battle ever seen in the history of these lands..."
"Ten years after the great war and the supernatural realm is all but lost...left in shambles and shards of a once unrivalled glory."
"A glory that is now cast in darkness and shadows, in sorrows and the embers of fire."
"It had begun when the peace treaty was broken and the five great races; The Canines, The Fanged, The Witches, The Mer kind and the Fae had turned their swords on one another."
"The evil had begun from the hearts of men, where greed and ambition lurked, a desire for the ultimate supremacy far beyond the established accord." The Iron Oracle paused, shaking his head regretfully as he recalled the memories, his eyes betraying his sadness.
"Once a crack had been made, there was no going back."
"The tendrils of Nyx magic, fed by the wars, bloodshed and discord, spread far and wide, seeping into the very essence of the realm,"
"Possessing it and weaving together a world that was entirely new... a world that was entirely evil."
"A world ruled by the one species that knew nothing but darkness and war, bloodshed and pillaging...a race that was birthed from the darkest abyss, the Nyx-born." The Iron Oracle trailed off, exhaling a heavy breath.
The memories were clearly hard on him to recall and the haunting look in his eyes spoke more volumes than his words could, even though most of his young audience were oblivious to it.
Indeed, that unfathomable reality had come to be. Nyx-born had taken supremacy of the realms, erecting their supreme empire on the ruins of the five great races that had once ruled.
Spreading the curse of Nether-Night to every part of the earth.
Hundreds of outposts were spread across the realms, commanded by powerful silver warlords who enforced the Nyx rule.
Under the ironclad rule of the Nyx King, the Nyx-born were impossible to overcome, indomitable, all powerful...they were god and everyone else was beneath.
Truly there was not much left of the supernatural realm but shards and shambles of the past glory.
"But even in this bleak world, there still remain those who stand strong and unyielding... the beacon of hope and light to the weaker races."
"One of such is the feared Alpha of the last standing wolf pack and our honored Lord of the Unified Resistance...Alpha Kazim Rugeal,"
"Or as he is more widely known, Rugeal the Demon's Bane." The Iron Oracle's voice trailed off again as his gaze moved to the heart of Nirvana's Depths, home to Alpha Kazim Rugeal.
Reverence and respect shone in his eyes, reflected in the hundred little and hopeful eyes whose gaze followed that of the oracle.
"As the folksong says, Rugeal holds the world together..." The Iron Oracle murmured quietly, a small smile brightening his wrinkled face.