Chapter Text
Those who fall and those who rise. Those who succumb and those who dominate. Those who pray and those who deny. Supremacy and inferiority, two sides of the same coin. In a cruel and divided world, there are always those who impose themselves and those who are overpowered. This is what history teaches. This is what cyclically repeats itself.
In the utopia desired by the Gods, every species, every creature had its own place, its own task. The strong would preserve the weak, guaranteeing protection, promoting harmony. With the elves watching over light and shadows, the humans could proceed to enrich the world they had been given. A necessary collaboration that would plant the seed of Absolute Peace, the immense gift of the Gods would germinate.
Creatures are imperfect, however, even if derived from the hand of a God. Pride, greed, arrogance had found a home in the souls of elves and humans. The former too proud to consider themselves the equals of lesser creatures. The latter too greedy to share the fruits and beauty of the land. Thus began the conflicts. That's how the world turned red. Thus the dream of utopia was buried under piles of corpses.
Cyclically the elves tamed the humans. Cyclically the humans rose up, each time leaving behind a piece of soul and integrity, in order to obtain the power needed to overthrow their enemies, despite their nature made them superior.
In an attempt to re-establish order, to force some sort of peace on those now lost beings, the Gods created the dryads, infusing in them all the benevolent will they possessed. Breathtaking beauty would represent the grace that could still exist in a corrupt world. Hands would heal and not hurt. Kindness and empathy would have softened the agony. They would have protected, preserved, balanced. Guardians of life, of the Divine Tree, they would have guaranteed its existence, for without the beating heart, that once shining earth would have met its end. Called to intervene to safeguard creation, where endangered by constant conflicts, by the degenerate spirits of elves and men driven by selfishness, ambition, lust for power. In the hope their mere existence, the presence of pure and splendid creatures, could rekindle in their hearts the desire for Absolute Peace.
A thousand years later, the world seemed to have found a new balance. Despite the wounds of the past, humans and elves coexisted thanks only to the presence of the dryads, glimmers of light in a world now dark. When the two elf brothers Indra and Ashura arrived, it seemed the absolution of every sin committed was near. The convictions of the eldest, driven by desires of supremacy, led to a seemingly irremediable rift not only with the youngest, but between the entire species. The fault between the elves was such as to cause a split and to counter those who now called themselves the dark elves, the rest had to join forces with humans. And so the world experienced what would be remembered in the future as the worst of wars. The First Betrayal. The dark elves, staining themselves with the worst outrage, in order to ensure victory attacked the dryads, so they could draw life force from the majestic Divine Tree.
The Gods, outraged by this affront, shred by the innocent and precious lives torn away, condemned Indra and his bloodline to love and lose, to suffer immensely if their minds, their souls and their desires had led them back to the darkness.
And it happened again. Two new brothers, not of blood but of arms, came to the clash. Dark Elves and White Elves were once again enemies, no longer allies. Madara and Hashirama marked the advent of the Second Betrayal, born in blood, which also ended in death. A descendant of Indra, the first knew the worst agony at the hands of the second. Not only bloodlust, hunger for power, but also suffering and loss, revenge and madness. Determined to repay Hashirama with the same coin, Madara took the bitter decision to stain himself with the lowest sin, killing Mito, the Mother of the Dryads, the precious beloved of the white elf. Unable to reach the Divine Tree and increase his power, Madara was defeated, although that success did not have the sweet taste of victory. The two brothers killed each other, ending the war but continuing the spiral of hatred.
Now hopeless, fearful even the purity of the dryads was being affected, the gods forbade them to join with the elves, to side with them, imposing instead the balance was maintained at all costs, even if it meant favoring humans and end the cursed lineage of Indra.
History repeats and renews itself, changing in its events but at the same time perpetual. Elves, humans and dryads wrapped by invisible threads, intricate destinies ordained to unite and destroy each other. Brothers lost and in conflict, loves found and lost. Purity mixed with greed. Goodness tainted by deviance. Blood, horror and suffering seem to intertwine in the vortex of fate that hovered inexorably.