BEFORE THERE WERE MANY, there was only one. The supreme creator, Demival, was born of a single purpose to populate the empty void with life. For millennia, Demival spun wisps of dust into immense spheres and molded them until they achieved the perfect shape of a star or planet. After the universe was decorated with constellations, the last creation was conceived deep in its center, fixed in place with the infinite strands of time sprawling outward across eternity.
This creation was the planet Palandoras, what would become the most vibrant and alive world of them all. It was here where Demival decided to beget his greatest achievement, a race of immortal beings that would oversee all aspects of Palandoras, including the creation of other, non-divine life. Out of the mountains of clay that still towered over the infant planet Demival sculpted twelve immense figures. But in his haste, he left them mostly unhewn, with crude forms and vacant souls.
After an initial slumber of six thousand years, eventually the figures shuddered to life. Yet rather than rule as Demival had intended, the twelve lumbering and soulless monstrosities set upon the world around them, devouring the land and drinking the seas until the world had become a barren waste. Rightfully, Demival was filled with despair.
To remedy these mistakes, the creator tore its own flesh and organs from its body and made twelve new vessels, then poured what vigor remained of itself into them. With the last warm air from its lungs, Demival breathed the spark of life into the new set of twelve, who all sprang awake at once.
This new brood, who would through generations of devotion from mortal kind ultimately become the GODS, went to war with their older, chaotic siblings. The war lasted eons and ravaged the world, but in the end the gods triumphed, and so sealed away their unruly siblings far within Palandoras to save the world from utter ruin. The twelve that lost were given the name TITAN so that their original names would be forgotten and their power contained. Or so, that’s how it was supposed to be . . .
IN THE CURRENT AGE, the world of Palandoras is ruled by humankind. Generations of prosperity and peace have left the mortals complacent. They no longer turn to the gods for their daily prayers, instead celebrating the virtues of humanity as a new sort of pantheon. As the names of gods wane on the lips of their followers, the gods retract in power. Some are lost forever.
But in the quiet complacency, a false security has taken roost. Now, RAZIEL, a man once heralded as a brilliant strategist, has fallen prey to a malicious prophecy, one that sees the renewal of the ancient race of titans. And with it the inevitable end of humankind.
In these direst of times, humanity must turn once more to the gods for help. But will the gods answer their call?