The king protected his kingdom and allowed it to prosper and as the years passed he grew comfortable with his position. Until one day when his sister came to him with a prophecy. "The Golden King rusts, the blood of the divine crushing the false ruler. His brethren shall betray him and the hunt shall begin". upon hearing the words rage boiled inside. Cold maddened eyes settled on the oracle as her head quickly rolled. 

With the kingdom thrown into chaos at the prospect of their beloved king dying, a witch-hunt began. Those previously blessed by the divine blood became cursed, hunted, and slaughtered. The few survivors gathered, building their own empires. Two new Kings were born from the first hunt. The Black King, and the White King. The two kings, each ruling by themselves, built safe havens for those fleeing the hunt. 

However, even with these shelters, the number of abnormal continued to decrease and after just seven months of persecution, only one family held strong.

The Voltaire, blessed for generations, fought off hundreds of hunters. fighting to protect their newborn child.

Kalanath Voltaire. 

Only three months old yet possessing magic potent enough to wipe out the surrounding town if left unchecked. 

This potent bloodline wasn't to be looked over by the hunt. Eventually, even the king himself couldn't deny their threat.  

Ordering a massive overhaul, the entire hunt surrounds the small town. Flames quickly engulfed the tiny homes, screams ripped through the air. From the blaze of battle, the mother grabbed her child, whisking him away from the wrath of the king.

With a blanket wrapped babe in one arm and blood tipped silver spear in the other she slashed her way through the carnage. The shrieks of the townspeople growing distant as she runs. Away from the terror. From the slaughter. From the hunt.