In 5000 BC, mankind had begun to evolve, forming the first fragile societies and civilizations—primitive, vulnerable, and blissfully unaware of the greater forces governing their existence. They believed themselves to be the masters of their world, but in truth, they were nothing more than pieces on a cosmic chessboard. It was during this age of ignorance that we, the Forsaken, emerged from the shadows.

Weakened by the restrictions imposed by the Primordial Gods, we were forced into hiding. We are Tuners—beings capable of manipulating the Toro, the electromagnetic field generated by all thing organic and inorganic that which binds the universe together. But the Primordials, fearing a return to the cosmic devastation that had nearly annihilated existence, shackled us with laws that bound our powers, reducing them to mere fragments of their former glory. Even so, our ambitions remained undimmed.

We descended upon humanity with the guise of benevolence, our smiles hiding our true intent. These mortals would come to worship us as gods, as they should. With us, we brought knowledge far beyond their comprehension. We revealed the secrets of enchantments, the art of crafting weapons—blades and shields forged with power—and taught them the ancient disciplines of astrology, meteorology, and writing. Under our subtle guidance, their civilizations grew faster, reaching heights they could never have achieved alone.

But as our influence spread, so did our hunger for more. We defied the Primordials' laws, taking their women as our wives, forging unions that were forbidden. From these illicit couplings were born a new race—the Nephilim. Towering and powerful, they were giants among men, possessing strength and intellect that rivaled even the gods of old. The Nephilim constructed cities that scraped the heavens, ruling over mankind as kings, warlords, and deities. Under their reign, Earth advanced by centuries, its progress a twisted reflection of our lost glory.

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Humanity gave us many names. To some, we were the Watchers. To others, we were the Fallen Angels or the gods and goddesses of their mythologies. But in truth, we were something far darker. We were the Forsaken—beings cursed to wander, our power corrupting everything we touched. We manipulated kingdoms and empires from behind the veil, our influence spreading like a shadow across the world, shaping human history to our will. Mankind was ours, though they would never fully realize it.

But like all things, our dominion was destined to end.

In 3500 BC, one of our most powerful—Zorath the Shaper—rose to the skies in defiance of the gods' restraints. Though weakened by the Primordials' bonds, Zorath uttered the ancient incantation, Acceleration Arts: Light's Fall, unleashing a blinding light that split the heavens. The beam crashed into the Earth with unimaginable force, exploding upon impact and creating what is now known as the Eye of the Sahara. The ground trembled, the skies darkened, and monstrous tsunamis roared across the continents. Entire civilizations were swept away in a cataclysm unlike any the world had ever seen.

Humankind would later call this event the Great Flood of Noah, a myth they clung to in an attempt to comprehend the devastation that had befallen them. But the truth was far more sinister. For us, the Forsaken, it was not an act of divine retribution—it was a reset. Everything we had built—the Nephilim, their mighty cities, their powerful empires—was erased, wiped clean by the floodwaters in a single moment of devastation. Yet this was only the beginning.

We knew that the Primordials would not allow us to continue unchallenged, but we refused to be shackled forever. The Earth's population would reset, time and again if necessary, until we achieved the outcome we sought. We had done it before, and we would do it again. For we are the Forsaken—masters of a lost universe, architects of chaos—and we will bend this world to our will, no matter the cost.

The flood may have purged our influence, but our ambitions remain unquenched. This is not the end. It is merely the prelude to the greater design.