Before mortals could walk, before stars took form, there was Elarion—a realm not just of land, sea, and sky, but of stories, stitched together by ancient gods who once shared their power freely. From this divine tapestry, pantheons emerged—Olympus, Asgard, the New Gods, the Old, and more—each staking their claim over reality itself.
But as belief fractured, so did unity. The gods grew selfish. Their war for worship broke Elarion into seven realms, each twisted by divine influence:
Solvana — Realm of Light, where the Olympians rule.
Thrymfell — Frozen empire ruled by Asgard's warriors.
Necra — Land of the Forgotten, governed by old and angry gods.
The Mirror Spiral — A place of twisted reflections and paradoxes.
Kavoss — The Wound Between Worlds, torn by the New Gods' hunger for dominion.
Elaris Prime — A mortal realm where humans still remember peace.
Abyss Thirteen — The prison of Theonix, sealed beyond time.
It was in Elaris Prime that the impossible occurred: Hope was born.
A child of no known father, and a mortal mother who died the moment she cried her first breath, Hope radiated power the gods could not understand. Within her, she carried the Energy of Gods—an energy that could undo Olympus, rebirth Asgard, erase time itself. To the gods, this was not a blessing.
It was a threat.
And so the Pantheon War began.
Meanwhile… On Earth
In the quiet chaos of New York City, Sarive Tambwe turned 18.
He remembered running. Fast. Free. Soccer cleats still dusty from the last match. Then a light swallowed him whole.
Now, he stood on the edge of a battlefield—not of this Earth.
Above him, stars wept blood. Below him, the land screamed with divine pain.
Beside him stood a woman with hair like a midnight river and eyes that burned with blue flame: Diana of Themyscira.
"Welcome to Elarion," she said. "You're not dreaming. And we don't have time."
Theonix Appears
The air tore open like paper, and from it stepped a being cloaked in black and starlight—Theonix. His eyes burned with galaxies, and around him swirled forgotten symbols from a time before any god drew breath.
"I have summoned you," Theonix said, "because my daughter must live. The gods will stop at nothing to claim her power. You, Sarive, are not bound by their rules. You are a variable. A wild truth. A storm they cannot predict."
Sarive blinked. "What power do I have?"
Theonix raised a hand. The wind howled. Lightning coiled around Sarive's arms. A surge of speed, strength, and flight coursed through him—his bones no longer felt human.
"You will be trained by the greatest," Theonix said. "By Diana, the warrior of justice. By Zatanna, mistress of arcane balance. By Raven, guardian of soul and shadow. And one day, even by the dark knight of strategy himself—Batman."
"But know this: you are more than power."
"You are her shield."
From the sky descended a ten-year-old girl with glowing white eyes and a soft expression. Hope.
And she smiled at Sarive like he was home.