The kingdom… was in ruins.
Not the kind of ruin that comes from time or neglect, but the kind that screams of betrayal, of abandonment, of something sacred being torn apart. When we arrived, the air itself felt heavy, as if mourning the loss of what once was. The streets, once alive with laughter and song, now lay silent beneath ash and shadow.
King Aiden Black, once revered and loved, had vanished. Not slain or exiled. Simply… gone. His crown and duty to his people, all forsaken. They searched for him, of course. Every alley, cavern, and whisper of wind was chased in hopes of finding their sovereign. But he was nowhere. Not in body nor in spirit.
And then…came the outsiders.
Strangers with no name, face, or mercy. They descended upon the land like a plague, tearing through the golden fields, the bountiful markets, and the homes of those that felt peace. What was once a haven became a battlefield. What was once a home became a grave.
The palace, once guarded by the legendary Threshold Guardians, beings rumored to have immense power and unwavering loyalty, fell. One by one, they were defeated. Their purpose shattered. And in their place rose a figure so absurd it would’ve been laughable… if not for the bloodshed that followed.
Kng Chicken.
Yes, spelled just like that. A mockery of royalty. A parody of power. And yet, he took the throne. Declared himself Overlord. Not with ceremony, but with violence. Not with honor, but with fear.
The people resisted. Of course they did. They had hope and the fire to fight. But hope is fragile when met with cruelty. They were slaughtered, mercilessly, methodically. Like sheep trapped in a den of wolves. The survivors? They didn’t live. Only hid, in shadows and silence. Praying that the Overlord’s gaze would never find them. Or were caught and caged in the dungeon with no hope of ever seeing the light of day again.
And then… came Lord Jayce Williams.
The last known noble. The final ember of the old world. He journeyed across broken lands, through storms and sorrow, to find us. Brynlie, Holly, Kalaya, and myself along with a few others. Companions not by chance, but by fate. We were the Divine Order. Not by title, but by purpose.
When we arrived, the devastation was complete. The kingdom was not dying; it was already dead. Fire lit the horizon. Smoke choked the sky. It felt… too late.
But Brynlie, ever the radiant soul, refused to let despair take root. Her laughter which was soft and defiant, cut through the gloom. She reminded us that even in ruin, there is reason to rise.
And so, standing upon scorched earth, beneath a sky that had forgotten the stars, we made a vow. We would reclaim this land. Not for glory or vengeance, but for the people. For the memory of what was. For the hope of what could be.
We are the Divine Order.
And we have come to restore what was lost.
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