Long before the fall of Osric, in an age when gods still walked among mortals, there lived a prince whose heart burned with purpose — Prince Geralt of the Dawn Court. It was said he discovered an ancient map, once belonging to Lord Wilfred, the last of the Seven Gods and guardian of the heavens. The map was no mere parchment — its ink shimmered with celestial light, shifting like living starlight beneath his fingers. It revealed the resting places of the Seven Mythical Crystals, and the sacred instructions to recreate what had once been lost — the Crown of Life, shattered in Wilfred's final battle against the Devil Lord.
When Wilfred struck the Devil down, the crown that bound divine order itself was destroyed, and the seven crystals that formed its essence scattered across realms — returning to the elements from which they were born, awaiting the call of destiny. Each crystal bore the breath of its creator, a fragment of divine will:
The Fire Crystal, forged by the God of Flames, lies deep within the heart of a volcano, enshrined in the Temple of Eternal Blazes. It is guarded by the Fire Lord and his army of blazing knights whose bodies burn brighter than molten steel.
The Ice Crystal, a shard of frozen divinity, slumbers within the secret chambers of the Frost Palace, guarded by the Ice Princess and her frostborn warriors. Its cold light is said to freeze both time and truth.
The Wind Crystal, left behind by the Sky God upon his ascension, drifts endlessly within the Kingdom of Clouds, protected by the Sky King and his swift aerial guardians. Its whisper commands the breath of all things.
The Water Crystal, resting in the ocean's deepest abyss, glows with tranquil might under the watch of the Sea Queen and her Tidesages — keepers of balance between serenity and storm.
The Earth Crystal, pulsing within the roots of a colossal, ancient tree, breathes life into forests and beasts alike. The Forest Queen guards it with her kin, ensuring no corruption defiles its heart.
The Light Crystal, radiant within the Celestial City of Dawn, watches over all creation under the protection of the Lord of Light and his radiant warriors.
The Dark Crystal, born of shadow and pure chaos, dwells in the Underworld Abyss, guarded by the Devil God's cursed sentinels. It is said that to gaze upon it is to forget the meaning of light itself.
When united, these seven crystals awaken the Mark of Resonance — a divine bond that grants the bearer power to defy both gods and destiny.
As Prince Geralt traced his fingers along the glowing map, the ink pulsed with color — red for fire, blue for water, green for earth, white for light, black for shadow, silver for ice, and pale gold for wind. For a fleeting heartbeat, seven lights flickered within his chest. The air itself seemed to bow before him. And in that moment, the crystals recognized him.
But power, as it always does, drew envy.
Centuries passed. Geralt's quest and sacrifice became legend — the origin of Osric's royal bloodline, whose crown was said to be forged from divine mercy itself. The Crown of Life became both a blessing and a curse, binding the kingdom's fate to the purity of its rulers' hearts.
Yet peace does not endure forever.
Generations later, that sacred legacy gave birth to two heirs — Princess Hilda and Prince Gerald, descendants of Geralt himself. When Hilda was chosen by divine decree as the next ruler, Gerald's pride cracked like a mirror under pressure. He who carried the blood of the first bearer could not bear the thought of kneeling to a woman. His jealousy turned to hunger — hunger to reclaim the crown's divine right for himself.
In his desperation, Gerald sought the forbidden: the same Devil Lord whom Wilfred had once sealed away. He ventured into the Devil's Dungeon, offering his mortal soul for a power that could burn heaven itself. The Devil laughed, and shadows rose to claim him. That night, Prince Gerald of Osric died — and something far darker was born in his place.
And so began the slow unraveling of the kingdom — the first tremor in the long fall of Osric.
---
The Royal Palace, Nightfall
The echo of distant horns filled the air. The palace trembled beneath the approaching darkness.
Queen Hilda stood by the window, her expression calm but her eyes shadowed by worry. Turning sharply, she gazed at her daughter, little Olivia, barely five years old, innocence shining in her curious eyes.
"Leofric," Hilda said softly, though her tone carried command. "Fetch Edith. Now."
"Yes, my Queen." Leofric bowed swiftly and disappeared through the golden doors.
Moments later, he returned with Edith — Hilda's personal maid. She was a woman of quiet grace, her beauty calm and timeless, like moonlight over still water. Despite her gentle aura, even she trembled under the divine pressure of the Crown of Life upon Hilda's head.
"You summoned me, my Queen?" Edith bowed.
Without looking at her, Hilda continued to caress Olivia's cheek. "I need you both to take care of Olivia while I'm gone."
"That won't be a problem, my Queen," Edith replied, lowering her gaze.
Hilda turned to her at last, her voice sharper. "You don't understand. I want you to take her and leave the palace."
Edith froze. "What?" Her voice trembled as she lifted her head for the first time in five years, the radiance of the crown burning tears into her eyes.
"But… why?"
"It's too dangerous here," Hilda said, dismissing the crown's glow with a gesture. "She cannot stay. Not tonight."
A silence filled the room — heavy and sorrowful.
Hilda knelt before her daughter and pressed a trembling kiss to her forehead. "Hurry, Edith. Get her out of here. It's the only way."
Edith's lips quivered. "What about you, my Queen?"
Hilda smiled faintly — a fragile, human smile. "Once this is over, I'll summon you back."
"Leofric," she continued, turning toward her loyal knight. "Promise me you'll protect my daughter."
Leofric fell to one knee, his voice firm. "With my life, my Queen."
"Good," Hilda whispered. "You may go now."
As Edith led Olivia away, the little girl looked back, her small hand reaching out. "Mom, where are you going? Are you leaving me?"
Hilda paused mid-step. Her composure cracked, if only for a moment. "Don't worry, my child. Mama will be with you soon."
Then she turned — and the great doors closed behind her.
---
Outside the Palace Walls
The sky bled crimson as darkness gathered. Standing before the gates was Prince Gerald, his armor etched with demonic symbols, a vast army of dark warriors at his command.
When Hilda appeared, radiant even in the shadowed night, he smirked. "Well, sister," he said mockingly. "You're finally here."
"Gerald," Hilda's tone was calm but laced with steel. "What have you done?"
He chuckled darkly. "Nothing personal, dear sister. Hand over the crown and the throne, and I'll let you die painlessly."
She raised a brow. "Dream on."
The air crackled with divine energy as Hilda ascended into the sky, her crown glowing like a miniature sun.
Gerald vanished and reappeared behind his army, his lips curling into a smirk. Let's see how long your light can shine against my darkness.
"Attack!" he roared.
The ground quaked as legions of dark warriors charged forward. Hilda's eyes blazed. With a sweep of her hand, she conjured orbs of fire — each exploding with devastating precision, annihilating hundreds at once.
"Dark Lords! Advance!" Gerald bellowed, panic rising in his chest.
Five towering figures emerged, monstrous and humanoid, their spears pulsing with dark energy. But Hilda only smiled.
In a blur, a blazing sword appeared in her hand. She struck once — and one dark lord vanished into dust. Then another. And another. Within seconds, all five were gone.
Gerald's jaw fell open. "She's… she's a monster."
"Retreat!" he screamed. "Retreat!"
But before he could escape, Hilda descended, landing gracefully amidst the chaos.
"Where do you think you're going?" she said coldly. "You lose, Gerald."
Gerald sneered, his form beginning to fade. "It's not over yet, sister. I'll return — and I'll take what's rightfully mine."
Hilda looked up toward the sky, her eyes glistening with sorrow. "Now I understand why Lord Wilfred destroyed the crown."
The ground trembled. A pulse of divine energy erupted, shaking the heavens themselves.
"You caused this," she whispered — and the world around them began to fall apart.