Beneath the surface of Jaia lies the labyrinth. On the land above the cultures of the world have given it various names, imagined countless creation myths for it and learned to live around it and within it.

The humans of Jaia had formed the church of the Empty God and they believe that the universe’s creation was a result of their god’s essence spilling from it. The empire, and their religious army - the church of the Empty God - claim soul relics as holy items. Even now, they gather for war against their neighbouring nations. An uneasy peace becomes more and more strained by the day, the hungry eyes of the current emperor and his uncle, the pope, aimed squarely at the relics held by the maajal queen.

The Maajal, known to the other races as the demon clans, believe that the labyrinth itself is the higher power, and that Jaia had formed around it. They treat it both as a hunting ground and training ground, powerful and valuable monsters forming within due to the high mana concentration inside.

The elves and dwarves, though they’d never accept it, have similar ideas about their world’s genesis. The first believe a great seed deep in the planet’s core sprouted and the labyrinth are its roots, a gargantuan and magical vascular system. The dwarves believe that the planet is like a mineral deposit, treating the massive sprawl of chaotic pathways as a rich mine. Both harvest whatever natural materials they can from their territory within.

The wisest of the mortals know that they are guests in a grander design, but each believes they understand the labyrinth, and therefore Jaia.

The labyrinth is not of Jaia, however.

Though the beings which remember the time before are few, they still exist. Some writhe and boil in the dark and unseen spaces, raging at the being which changed the status quo. Some wait to see if even greater change will come to the world, wagering that the next phase of being would be more free for themselves. Others left, their power and reach not limited to a single plane of existence, unwilling to be bound by the new rules that were forming.

It came as a cataclysm to a quiet and violent world. More than a dozen tumbling meteors of divine power collapsed onto Jaia. Where they did, the sprawling mycelium that was the labyrinth began to spread. Quickly, the planet was claimed by this power. Mana spread throughout everything, infusing the world and the creatures that walked upon it with that energy.

Even to describe these events as ancient history would not do it justice. There is not a mortal being alive which remembers, only the leftovers from a more primitive time, with more primitive powers. There were no more dragons in the skies of Jaia to tell these tales, and the more diabolical creatures that might still exist weren’t keen to give answers. Most just hungered for a time where they could rise once more.

Steel Fever was one such creature. It had survived that conflagration wrought by the foul goddess, escaped the rubble and continued to feast on the remnants. As was it’s right. It did what it wanted because nothing could stop it, nothing more complicated than that. Once the pieces of the false god fell, it had been trapped. To Steel Fever, Jaia was nothing more than a restaurant, but it had gotten locked in when a new owner had taken over.

Now it has been reduced to this. No bigger than a slug, it was an angry welt upon the world. A hidden blade, lying in wait.

Most of its form had been lost to the void. So much more than time had been lost to the Guan, and now a new hunger burned within it again. It wanted power. It wanted revenge on the boy who had gotten in its way. On the dragon which had joined the annoying gnats and the girl who wielded its staff-like form and the girl with the lightning crystal.

Luckily, it knew exactly what it needed to do. With all the patience of an immortal being, Steel Fever closed off its mind and fell into a stasis. After all, it had all the time in the world.

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In Danshing, the capital of the Shin empire, news was travelling slowly. The only reason for this, Yurie knew, was because the news was bad. Even bad news moved around like an eel made of lightning, so it must be worse than bad.

“What’s the skin?” She asked the nearest fisherman. Even if the people weren’t talking, the fish seemed to. She’d never met a sailor who didn’t know some interesting gossip. As much as they claimed it was their wives that gave information away, it was the sailors who spread the juiciest news.

This one was a young thing, only two or three years older than Yurie herself based on the poor attempt at a moustache that was currently fuzzing his lip. He looked as though he had been asked what the weather was like in Dunvar, and sputtered for a few moments as he came to grips with his new reality. It was just a matter of fact that people stopped when they looked at Yurie. She paid it no mind any more.

“If only you could paint me, you’d be able to stare all day. Why are the robes all running?” Yurie could easily spend all hours of the day explaining her features to those who gawked, but it had become an art of her to cut through it with a staggering amount of confidence, misplaced or not.

“Edict of the emperor.” The useless idiot said uselessly.

“Right?” Yurie asked after wordless silence told her that she would get no more information. “And why,” she extended the word to emphasise it, “does that get the churchies so riled?”

Yurie had no hatred for the church of the empty god, but she’d also never seen the need for them. So the world was some god’s spilled dinner, what of it? Doesn’t mean you have to go around making up strange rules for people, which is all they did as far as she was concerned.

“The clergy are going to fight the demons,” said the slightly less useless boy, “probably soon.” When it was clear that Yurie was done with him, and the opportunity not to look at her any more became apparent, the man scuttled away like a crab. That was bad news, and explained a lot. All week the streets had been quiet, and the pockets of the people a little lighter than normal. If people were getting ready for war, then it all made sense.

“Well,” Yurie said to the crashing waves of the Danshing dock before looking for a ship to stowaway on, “opportunity awaits.”

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Shade always hated the stares he received, so he hid himself within a thick cloak at nearly all times. Long gloves covered his arms, wrapped in the sleeves of his top. He tucked his shoddy trousers into boots. Not a glimpse of his skin could be seen, except for the opening in his woollen mask around his eyes. Dark grey skin, like the ash of charcoal, surrounding two brilliant amethysts.

He also learned long ago that people didn’t look too closely at those who seemed to need help. There were tears in his clothing, a cultivated dishevelment which allowed Shade the anonymity he desired, even here in Allusia where everything is so cramped. The saying was that if you can’t feel someone’s breath on you when you sleep, you must have killed someone.

If you really want people to avoid looking at you, ask them for money, Shade knew. So when the large maajal with yellow skin and short green horns grabbed his arm, Shade did not know what to do. This wasn’t the normal script.

“You a fighter?” The sallow-skinned woman asked angrily. Hoping to avoid getting his face punched in, Shade said no. He had some skill, as did any maajal, but none he could use in the city. “You best hide yourself, then, runt. Queen’s calling all of the children home, war’s coming.”

The woman ululated in clear excitement and bounded off.

“What kind of idiot would be excited for war?” Shade muttered, deciding that tonight could be spent closer to the outskirts of Allusia. The city technically existed in the labyrinth, but it didn’t follow the same rules. It wasn’t dangerous. “Well,” Shade corrected himself aloud, “it’s not dangerous in the same ways.”

“I agree completely, prince Shade.” A voice that seemed as though it were made of smoke and shadow slipped through the alley. Shade recognised it but that didn’t make him less on edge. How had a vizier found him? With a horrible thought, Shade realised he had probably never been hidden in the first place. Not from those he wanted to be. “It is time to come home.”

“Vizier Excess.” Shade gave a stiff bow. If he could see Excess, then there was no way to escape. “I have no home. That was made very clear by my mother.”

“The queen expresses great misery at this misunderstanding, Prince.”

“If that were true, she should have come herself. Or did you expect me to think it was my mother who sent you, and not Certainty?” Shade had been slowly moving back to the open street behind him, but the shadows in the alley seemed to grow for a moment. Excess’ form disappeared, and Shade felt armour clink as he backed into the tall man.

Crimson skin, black eyes and vicious tusks, Excess was more of his sister’s pet than a vizier. The position held prestige once, but the current festering mass of sycophants and backstabbers had grown into a swarm under Excess’ watchful eye. His mother was preoccupied with the humans to pay attention to the court below her. Control of her vassals was left to Shade’s eldest sister, Certainty, and now it was a knife ready to stab his mother in the back.

“Does it matter who sent me, Prince? You will come back, won’t you?” Excess’ slimy, oil-like voice was like anathema to Shade. If it had been anyone else, even if it had been Certainty herself, Shade might have reacted differently.

Sighing and resigning himself to a certain amount of pain, Shade launched into his assault.

Much, much later, when the dust settled and the victor was declared, this skirmish would be looked at as the true start of the greatest war the world had ever known.