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WOS Prologue

In the heart of Nemorosa, where the sun casts its golden warmth across the land, the shadows stirred.

At first, it was just a whisper of darkness that crept stealthily beneath the moon’s watchful gaze, ensnaring unsuspecting travelers in its corrupting embrace. Tales were told of those lost to its depths, their souls consumed and reborn as creatures of nightmare, haunting the forests, their eyes swirling with darkness. 

But now, as daylight bathed the world in its radiant glow, the shadows grew bolder. They spilled out from hidden places, stretching out across the landscape like fingers of dusk.

Whispers turned into murmurs, murmurs to raised voices, and raised voices to panicked cries, as the people of Nemorosa beheld the unthinkable: darkness encroaching upon the day, devouring the light with a rabid hunger. Yet, disbelief clung to their hearts like a stubborn fog, shrouding their minds in denial even as the evidence lay plain before their eyes.

Fear took root in the hearts of the people as shadows danced where none should. They whispered tales foretelling a time when darkness would rise, consuming all in its path. Some sought solace in prayer, beseeching the gods for protection. While others turned to superstition, warding off the shadows with charms and talismans.

Yet, for all their efforts, the darkness persisted, its swirling, misty fingers spreading wider with each passing day. Only the major cities and their towns were safe from its reach, with the outlying villages passing strict curfews and the mothers keeping their children close at all times.

With each victory it claimed, Evras, the dark mage at its heart, grew stronger, feeding on the fear and despair of those he ensnared.

In the face of such overwhelming darkness, hope flickered like a dying flame, threatening to be extinguished. But in the depths of despair, a glimmer of light remained— a story, a foretelling, a prophecy whispered by many, of a chosen one who would rise to challenge the shadows and dispel them from the land.

The people clung to the legend, holding fast to the last shred of hope that remained. For the darkness could be fought. And the shadows could be beaten.

The foretelling, though vague, promised that there was a way, a chosen hero that would emerge from the darkest hour who could wield all five elements.

It was a promise. And it was a lie.

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