In a cataclysm known as the Nightfall, the worlds were almost completely destroyed by a harrowing surge of darkness.
In the shadows of the ensuing chaos a new group has taken shape. Led by an Aegyl named Kalos, the 11th Hour touts an esoteric knowledge of how to combat the darkness and restore the worlds. They might be the worlds’ best chance at survival; but nobody really knows enough about them to confirm or deny their claims.
On the brink of collapse, the universe holds its breath in anticipation. Of restoration? Of destruction? It is up to individuals like yourself to decide.
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Amelia heard the wolf snarls and the winged girl break into a sprint before she saw the figure disappear ahead. She swore under her breath and started running, stumbling through the snow and over her own feet closer to the sounds of battle. She jammed her hand into her bag to reach for her gem case, closing her fingers around one of the shards, but a sharp howl made the blood drain from her limbs.
The huge First District door came into view ahead, only slightly ajar. Before it, something glinted on the ground. Amelia ran past it, glancing over her shoulder towards the familiar golden frame, and pushed her way through the door.
The gnashing sounds still erupted through the Zero District, keeping the blonde's nerve's well on edge. The stench of combat came from not here, but elsewhere it seemed. He watched Zephyr disappear into the very familiar First District, the weird frame falling to the ground, followed by the cute redhead.
Turning his head to the statues, he glanced at those weird things one last time before taking off after the two of them, brows knitted together with a renewed sense of alert. There was no time to waste, and in seconds the oversized door was upon him, and almost immediately, before even stepping through did he feel his hairs stand on end. His body temperature dipped by several degrees in dark foreboding, and it was only after that that he took a deep breath and stepped into the chaotic First District, fearing the worst.
And like that, District Zero was as it had been at the start.
It was cold and lonely and empty except for a dropped golden mirror frame, with a gaping black center where there should have been a reflective sheet of glass. It spanned about four feet in height and two and half in width. The frame was of solid gold, the metalwork twisting upon itself like a snake or the symbol of infinity. A small red gem glimmered on either side and upon closer inspection, it looked as though the glass must have broken into three parts and were now lost or scattered. Yet, it seemed to have some sort of life about it. One could almost hear the sound of something or someone rustling behind the frame, trying to break free and be heard...