Long ago, in a time before the blue marble of Earth held any significance to this cosmic tragedy, there existed a world of shimmering beauty and terrifying power. Its name was Aetherion, a planet that defied the laws of ordinary celestial bodies. It was a place of eternal twilight and glowing horizons, watched over by two massive moons, Romulus and Remas, that filled the sky with a constant, pulsating silver light. Life on Aetherion was not a chaotic struggle for survival but a masterpiece of evolution. The people who walked its silver-grass plains were werewolves, yet they bore little resemblance to the mindless monsters found in human folklore. They were a civilization of profound intelligence, thoughtful philosophers, and advanced engineers who built towering stone cities that seemed to grow out of the mountains themselves. They spent their long lives studying the intricate movements of the stars and lived in a state of perfect, intentional balance with the natural world around them. This harmony was not accidental; it was enforced by a sacred, ancient law known as the Code of the Silver Tide. This law was the heartbeat of their culture, teaching every cub from the moment they could walk one simple, unwavering truth: Power exists solely to protect life, not to dominate it. For countless millennia, this philosophy acted as a shield against the darkness of greed, keeping a peace that many believed would last until the end of time itself. But peace, no matter how deeply rooted, is a fragile thing that does not last forever. Inside the hallowed halls of their greatest center of knowledge—the Great Academy of Aether—a dangerous and seductive new idea began to take root. A faction of powerful warriors and ambitious scholars began to look at their own reflections and see gods rather than stewards. They came to believe that the werewolves of Aetherion were the supreme beings of the universe, destined for something greater than mere balance. They turned their advanced telescopes toward other planets and saw only weakness and untapped resources. In their arrogance, they believed it was their divine right to rule over everything the light of their moons touched. These dissidents broke away from the Council, calling themselves the Blood Ascendants. Their leader was a man named Valerius, a brilliant strategist whose charisma was matched only by his cruelty. He claimed that the Lunar Council and their ancient laws were shackles holding the race back from its true glory. When the Council refused to sanction a crusade of conquest, Valerius abandoned words and chose the path of fire. The conflict that followed was a nightmare that lasted for generations. The stone cities that had stood for thousands of years were reduced to rubble, and the great silver forests turned black under the heat of orbital bombardment. Families were torn apart as the Blood Ascendants began to use forbidden, dark lunar magic. This sorcery was designed to strip a werewolf of their mercy, their empathy, and their human-like reason, leaving behind a hollow shell—a violent creature fueled only by a never-ending, artificial rage. By the time Kael Varyn was born into the world, Aetherion was already a ghost of its former self, choking on the smoke of its own destruction. Kael grew up not in the halls of learning, but in the trenches of the resistance, serving as a high-ranking warrior for the Lunar Council. He was a man of immense strength and iron discipline, yet he possessed a heart that remained deeply kind despite the horrors he witnessed. He fought with a heavy soul, picking up his blade only because he had to—never because he desired the glory of the kill. As the war reached its inevitable, tragic conclusion, the Blood Ascendants grew desperate. In a final, mad attempt to seize victory, they tried to draw power directly from the cores of the two moons to fuel a weapon capable of rewriting reality itself. Instead of winning the war, they shattered the celestial mechanics that held the planet together. The balance was broken beyond repair, and the two moons began to slowly spiral inward. Aetherion was no longer a home; it was a tomb that could not be saved. The elders of the Lunar Council, watching the sky collapse above them, realized they had only a few agonizing moments left before the atmosphere ignited. They understood that while they could not save their world, they had a final duty to save the essence of their people. They chose Kael for this burden. It was not a reward for his service, nor was he meant just to survive as a lonely refugee. The elders performed a final ritual, pressing a glowing mark into his chest that contained the "Omen Protocol"—the distilled history, power, and magic of Aetherion. As the sky turned a bruised violet and the very ground beneath the Great Academy began to melt into glass, Kael was physically forced into a jagged tear in space-time—a one-way doorway leading to a distant, primitive world. He screamed