There stands to be a conundrum, born before the first kingdoms rose from the deserts of the south, and before the first ship crossed the northern seas. It came with the first fire and the first fire-bringer.

The people saw that among them, some were not quite as themselves, be they family or tribesmen. A power both divine and deviant drew a line between the two and promised to shape the course of history itself.

Their stories first told as pictures in chalk, praised the hunters who brought food and kept the rain from putting out their fires. Through storms and floods, plagues and famines, nations prevailed because of the few born with a gift.

In time it was known that magic would forever be a privilege granted to the lucky ones, and the line would become a rift so wide, it would split their world apart.

Finally, when the common man saw an opportunity to equal the scales and take back the power, he did not hesitate to do so. With the help of their imaginary gods, and an arsenal of deadly weapons, kings and priests alike waged war on everyone deemed unholy. It took two hundred years of merciless purging and slaughter to erase several millennia of inequality. When it finally ended the victors looked at their bloodied hands and called it justice, never knowing how dearly it would come to cost them.

What once was lost can never be revived, but a time will come when it will be the only thing to keep the world from going mad.

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A figure moved through the shadows of Arbiger Park. He cut through the trees, in a straight line with no elegance or a sense of where he was going. His breath hitched, beads of sweat covering his forehead, as he looked over his shoulder, eyes wide with fear. He couldn’t remember how he got that far, or why he was running, but one thing was certain: he was being hunted.

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Fear struck him, and like a hungry animal wandering through dark and silent woods, his rational instincts told him that he had to keep going, that he had to escape from the unseen terror that followed him.

His footsteps echoed through the empty park, an ominous sound mocking his desperation. Branches reached out to him, tugged at his clothes and scratched at his skin.

In a moment of weakness, he stumbled and fell. Pain lit up his body, but he forced himself back up, letting the adrenaline drown the ache. He looked over his shoulder again, his heart now pounding behind his ears, but saw nothing but the swaying silhouettes.

The first spark of hope struck him as the trees began to give way to deserted trails clad in stone. He knew he couldn’t run forever, but the thought of what awaited him if he stopped, motivated him to keep going.

At last, he saw the edge of the park — a glimmer of light up ahead, and the towers of the city twinkling over the trees. With a burst of energy, he lept into the last stretch of darkness.

The short distance to the exit seemed to stretch out endlessly before him as he looked frantically back and forth. He was so close but the fear threatened to swallow him whole. He fought back with every fibre of his being, refusing to give up.

But fate had other plans.

Just then he heard it: the feint sound of footsteps approaching him from behind. His blood turned cold, and a shiver ran down his spine like an icy finger invoking an unfamiliar memory.

He knew something was wrong, and it wasn't just the enemy in the night. Sickening thoughts filled his head until a moment of clarity came.

All of this had happened before.

Halfway through, he stopped running, rubbed the corners of his eyes, and took a closer look at everything around him. Tree by tree, rock by rock, he scanned the park for signs of real danger, only to find a grimly familiar image. He was almost ready to believe it was a dream until he felt something tear at his back.

He couldn't scream, his voice wasn't in his throat, and the pain was too subtle to be real. However, it weighed heavily on him and he feared an inevitable fate. A hand grabbed his shoulder, pushing him down, as the blade returned to cut deeper and deeper. There, the world began to disappear as the night covered his eyes, and everything went back to where it came from.

As his blood spilt out across the cold earth, the first drops of spring rain came down to wash it away.

In the stillness of the night, the park was once again left deserted, and all its secrets hidden under the cover of darkness.

And while the moon watched the cold world below, the sound of terror lingered in the air, with an ominous reminder of the horrors that lurked beyond sight.