PROLOGUE

There are stories that belong to history.

There are stories that belong to myth.

And then there are stories that belong to neither.

They are remembered only in fragments, carried across generations in whispers, hidden within forgotten manuscripts, buried beneath mountains, preserved in symbols no one can fully read, and woven into legends so old that even those who tell them no longer remember where they began.

Every civilization has inherited pieces of those stories.

No civilization has inherited all of them.

Some speak of dragons.

Others remember moon maidens, giants, sacred forests, impossible creatures, or heroes whose deeds seem greater than any mortal life could contain.

Each culture believed its legends were born from its own land, its own people, and its own history.

Yet the oldest records suggest otherwise.

For beneath every legend, beneath every myth, beneath every tale that has survived the passing of centuries, there lies a single thread connecting them all, stretching backward through forgotten ages toward a beginning that no living witness ever recorded.

Not because the truth was lost.

But because it was never meant to be easily found.

This Chronicle is not a work of fiction.

Nor is it a history in the way history is commonly understood.

It is a collection of surviving accounts, forgotten traditions, scattered observations and preserved testimonies gathered from countless generations, each revealing only a fragment of a story far greater than itself.

Some pages remain incomplete.

Others have been damaged by time.

Many are still waiting to be discovered.

Whether you choose to believe what follows is entirely your own decision.

The Chronicle asks for no faith.

Only curiosity.

Because every journey begins the same way.

With a single page.

Turn it...

And remember.

Not every flame was meant to be seen.