Gods

500 years ago, when the skies of Khanri'ah were still burning and the earth was saturated with ash and curse, four descended where no archon had gone before.

Asmodeus—with a grin that made the shadows tremble. Her shadows.
Ronova—with eyes full of cold curiosity. And also death.
Naberius—silent as the abyss itself.
And Astaroth—the one who always knew what she would find.

Amid the wreckage of ancient mechanisms and shattered altars, they heard a cry. Not cursed, not corrupted by the Abyss—pure, living.

A child. Small, wrapped in scraps of black clothing, with eyes devoid of fear. Just a question: "Are you my new parents? "

The gods exchanged glances. Asmodeus wanted to laugh. Ronova wanted to leave. Naberius simply watched. But Astaroth said:
"He/she will stay with us. And will receive everything. "

They gave him/her more than just a name. They gave him/her an archonship. A new one. Created from the fragments of a fallen civilization and the will of four. The boy/girl grew up among the gods, learning everything from them—from intrigue to magic, from war to mercy.

The years passed. The child grew up. And one day, 500 years later, he/she founded their kingdom—not on the ruins, but above them. A city where the shadows of Khanri'ah became a foundation, not a curse.