The Twins of Evermoon
The Sun did not rise. It had not risen in several days. Only Darkness. That awful, horrible Darkness that pervades through everything and brings a lack of hope to everything. Even the birds no longer chirp, leaving an almost eerie silence in the Night that should be Day. Has Elara forsaken us? Have we displeased her so greatly that she refuses to shine her light on us, to allow the crops to grow, to give hope to our hearts? Are we forever doomed to the Darkness, to Anaro?
As the Darkness became more frightening, as that which creeps at night became more threatening, and as hope became something only the foolish and most devoted held on to, a glimmer of hope arose. A young woman, dark haired with eyes of a deep dark blue the like only sailors see in the darkest depths of the sea. Her voice was so soft one rarely heard her speak above a whisper. She seemed to have hope where none else existed, to believe that Elara would again shine her light on the lands of Evermoon, and the more she spoke to those around her, the more they believed. Hope needs only a flicker to rekindle, and she was that tinder. The spark that was needed to let those who could stand to fight, feel that it was not without chance. And such heroes did rise. A band of three came to her one day and offered to help fight back the evil, but they required her aid. Her hope was the fire they needed to battle the darkness.
Tales have been spun of that adventure through the hundreds of years since. Many claim the young woman was Elara herself, come to human form to aid us in our darkest hour. But sometimes the truth is more fantastical than myths, and as such legends are born. The legend of the band of Four that saved Evermoon from the Darkness has been passed down from generation to generation. Young men become Knights in the hope that one day they too shall be called to save their home, and can stand up to become the heroes of which legends are made. Young women sing songs of hope, dreaming of being the tinder that saves a kingdom from the depths of horror.
For four hundred years these stories have continued. The creatures of the night have had any number of horrible faces, and the more fantastical the story, the more unbelievable it becomes and the more heroic the heroes who defeat them. As with all tales, though, what passes on to legend becomes a myth, and everyone knows, myths are not real. And so neither are the horrible creatures, wicked evils, dark shadows, or demons that once legends claim were a blight upon Evermoon.
For the past three hundred years all has been at peace. Magic is an illusion created only by wizards who are tricksters. Slight of hand and displays of fantastical fireworks displays so vivid and realistic, yet known to be false. Enjoyed by all but believed by none. It is as if someone had taken the magic away and hidden it from view and memory, or perhaps it never truly existed.