Hello, my children...

It is I, your creator, Ragnos. Though my real name might be unknown, it is my title that will allow you to recognize me.

I am the Lord of Chaos, Creation and the Universe, parent to the first generation of primordial beings. The stories of old tell of me being a void, a man, a woman... Both, Neither. It all depends on whose works you read. An interesting concept, that because I birthed life, I am feminine. I do very much prefer my masculine form, however, I could look whatever way I wished, so there is most certainly no wrong answer.

Yet, amongst all these ideas, nobody brings up the idea that I have a physical form, that I am more than the creator and destroyer of all things, a shapeless entity.

This was done on purpose, for the sole reason of masking my existence. It was my idea to do as such, and the gods had obliged when I had first asked them to perform the task of erasing my true self from the tales of mortals. To this day, they are true to their word.

For that, I can thank my oath, which I have pledged to every ruling deity since the primordials. I pledged this to my daughter, Gaia, I pledged to Kronos, and once Kronos was defeated, I recited the Oath to Zeus as well. The most sacred Oath to be pledged throughout history, restricting my rule over the creatures I had once created.

I am not to have mortal followers. No demigod children, and once the reign of Gaia passed, I vowed not to create immortal descendants either. This further weakened me, however, it was something I was willing to do. As the ruler above all, my power remained unchallenged and all of this was only to gain the trust of those that had the right to fear me.

Over the past millennia, I have watched over life from my throne room, watching the changes unfold that I had once felt would happen. A change I had felt before Prometheus had given fire to humanity, before Gaia gave Kronos his scythe to murder his father. Fate, showing a glimpse of the future to come.

A change so grand was approaching, that it had forced my hand. I broke my Oath.

Thousands of years have passed since the first murder, and over the last century and a half, what I had seen of the future then, was now coming to fruition. It was bound to start with the demigods of the prophecy, the Nine, defeating a primordial, an impossible feat for any Olympian, not to mention mortals. Even with the insight I had, it had surprised me when they had succeeded.

My daughter, trapped in endless sleep, her physical form destroyed beyond repair, doomed to suffer the same fate as her husband.

Everything has a consequence... Even if the rejoicing demigods were blind to it all. So fleeting is a human life, that they rarely think beyond their own lives, into the future.

They were unaware of what fires they had lit when the ball of flames had engulfed Gaia. It would spread out to be an inferno, one that, given enough time, would burn everything that the gods and their children once loved. An enemy, even worse than Gaia, his anger at the happenings of the second giant war forcing him to do something never seen in the history of the planet. He thirsts for revenge, but it takes time to gather power, no matter what colour blood runs in your veins.

And so, with the Olympians bathing in victory, time passed over the heroes. Generations, born and gone.

Most of the Nine have long since passed into the afterlife, leaving behind a legacy that some would argue surpasses even the myths of Ancient Greece. A relative time of peace descended on the world, for both the mortals unaware of the hidden world of gods and monsters and those that were born into this different way of life.

Those days are coming to an end... Starting with the nineteenth of June, two-thousand one-hundred and sixty. All thanks to the many mysteries that remain unsolved to this day. Mysteries that the gods themselves keep from their children and followers, for even they do not know how to explain it.

The God of Poetry, Phoebus Apollo is gone, along with all means of acquiring prophecies. Only the befuddled mind of the harpy is what supplies the demigods and Olympians with any means of prophecy, but in the latter years of this period of peace, her knowledge has run quite dry.

Yet, children of Apollo still appear. They still get claimed, and their inherited godly powers still remain unchanged. It is unknown how, or why, the demigods simply accept this into their lives without question.

The new great prophecy has not been revealed, not since the last one came to fruition. The demigods see this as a good omen, and the all-knowing Olympians believe the same.

But war is brewing, the likes of which will leave the surface of Gaia tattered, and the domain of Ouranos filled with the cries of the dying and the smoke of burning cities.

This is why breaking my Oath a second time was necessary.

He will lead the fight against the enemy of the gods, however much it pained me to rest such a weight on his shoulders.

There was nothing else I could do. Nothing more...

For Fate cannot be changed.

War hurts everyone, there are no exceptions.