There was this one theory— a myth among thousands of stories told by our very own ancestors. Millions of years ago, the planet Earth have gone through countless evolutions. Destroying what's left to live, only to replace it with new civilization, ready to serve its purpose.
However, what if one single speck of dust from a planet — a stranger to its own universe; gets lost in the surface of Earth?
As the planet's 78th evolution approaches, its terrifying end is close to reach. A few more cycles to go through, and the next thing you know, the whole universe just blows up. Even so, this one tiny particle, an alien to its own surrounding — made greater change to the process of evolution. Emerging with the existing cells was never enough, it got something bigger within this tiny particle. Something… enchanted.
It needed a host to cling into. And ironically, so does the last race of human beings to survive a catastrophic disaster. Desperate enough to live and continue their existence, a bond has formed between the tiny particle and its chosen host. Planting itself deeper to the human core, as it swallows their whole being. Thus, the new race of civilization has been born.
That was how the Theory of Zyra explained the unspoken curiousity of our own origins. However, everyone disregarded it as fiction. Science has never been everyone's cup of tea, especially now that the nation doesn't really evolve around it anymore.
The nation I live in, the Dominion of Cymorra has been the only home for all of the living beings that existed up to this day. However, it wasn't really easy to live within it as the nation's great leaders have decided to split it into nine divisions. Ensuring that those of power, stays above; and those of poverty, remains below. Hierarchy was above it all, and democracy was never an option.
Starting with the first division, the High Dominion ofVirellian Hold, currently led by the Nation's President as well. It is the golden cradle of supremacy. People inside this division were raised to lead, bred for legacy, and trained to burn brighter among the others. Public duels, ancestral trials, and legacy tournaments determine their standing. In Virel, power is not earned — it is inherited, perfected, and displayed.
Second division, High Order of Caelthorn Reach, veiled in silence and precision. People within this operates in like a blade among the shadows. Ritual oaths bind family to family, and stealth is an artform passed from generations to generations. Their techniques revolve around darkness and disappearing — cloak, confuse, and strike. While Virel rules with blinding blaze of the sun, Caere whispers from the shadows that withstand their ruling possible.
Council of Theryndal Verge, is the third division. Their libraries stretch like cathedrals, filled up with memories of ages. They are the keepers of records in Cymorra: the historians, seers, and arcane theorists. Bloodlines within this division are defined by memory mapping, psychic training, and unshakable bond to truth. Who knows? Inside their vaults, could show secrets that could unmake the whole nation. However, it is guardad by Theyrves with reverence.
Fourth division is the Union of Durwynn Forge, built in smoke and fire. Their people wield strength like scripture, honoring discipline and creation above all. Fire-forging rites and steel-blood trials marks their adulthood. When war calls, Durwynn answers in iron.
For the fifth division, they call it the Guild of Korraven Wilds. This clan lives in harmony with nature, blending their abilities into the insitincts of predator and prey. They are untamed and unruled, deep in moss-covered mountains and wind bitten cliffs. First-hunt rituals bind soul to the beast. Korrans are resourceful, fierce, and free — they trust no hierarchy but the wind. Half of the civilization forgets them however, Korra remembers everything.
In sixth division, people within are calculating and cool. They are the mind of Cymorra — Order of Azazel Eprente. They train people of young age here in psychological warfare, debate, and mind manipulation. Bloodlines display gifts of remarkable intellect, strategic and analytical wisdoms, and memory control. Every word is measured, every move strategic. While others fight for thrones, Azren engineers who sits on them.
Enter the seventh division, the Circle of Cyndralith Vale. Charm and illusion blooms in Cyrva like theater if masks. Children withis this divisions are performers and influencers as they were trained to wield emotions as if it is their weapons. Through songs, dances, or captive whispers, Cyrvans shape the thoughts of the nation while never revealing their own.
Nearing to the end, is the eighth division, the House of Myrravelle Spire. It is the sanctuary for the unstable, the unpredictable, the cursed geniuses. Their bloodlines are volatile, and people within this house are dangerous to control. However inside that chaos lies untapped brilliance — and deep within, they could possibly rewrite the very laws of our nation.
At the bottom of Cymorra, lies the Hold of Assania Kritanta. Abandoned, covered with dust, cracked, and almost forgotten. People within this division fights to do everything to survive, sharing meals as sacred vows. The whole nation calls them lesser, the weak, full of outcasts ready to be slaughtered.
These nine divisions have decided everyone's standing and place in the nation. Forced to belong within these divisions and live up to the reputation it has gained. Despite that, discrimination never left and this has worsened the system of government.
Oh! And that single tiny particle I mentioned earlier?
That particle is what we call now a Mena, a magical core that one could harness both mentally and physically.
That means, each one of us who have been born with that core, the Menaris, have gained supernatural abilities. That includes me.
However, as I told you, poverty sticks on you like a leech. It gets harder to beat it when you have the higher ups of the nation as your opponent. If you're in bottom, you will most likely remain in your place. And I, for one, am a victim of it. I live in the last division. So, what good does my ability do right now?
I am not one of the higher beings nor will I be a good menari to be looked upon. I was never meant to live a life with purpose, I was meant to survive it.
Left with no options, what more can I do than be a criminal? In the end, it's their fault I've taken this path anyway.