Among men, the royal family of Von Astrea bore a sacred ritual. Their blood carried the Divine Protection, a magic older than all others, the creator and safeguard of The Curtain. And in this holder of time was born Prince Taro Von Astrea, whose heart was light with potential, yet heavy with negligence.

Then came the day the suns of Astrea vanished. One by one, their bright light dimmed, and the world fell into shadows. From the darkness emerged the demons, and the realms of man and woman merged within. The Curtain shattered, and the kingdom of Azurae fell into ruin. Its people became the mortal servants of the demons will.

By chance, or perhaps fate, Taro escaped the grasp from high. He fled north, into the frozen peaks of Rondo, fourteen mountains where frost and storm reign eternal. There, the temperatures reach under and beyond. And creatures of myth prowled unseen. For days he wandered, until the cold became a weight upon his frail body, and his strength failed him.

Yet when he opened his eyes, he found warmth. A fire burned before him, and his body bore no scar of the frost.

He saw a river running clear and cold, and beside it lay his royal robes, in its beauty as the day he was crowned.

In the quite yet calm campsite, a voice rang out, sharp with mockery:

He turned to see a man, who offered provisions with a casual grace.

"I am Ryo,"

he said.

"And you?"

Taro gave his name, while confused and blurry, he had a lot of questions. He tended to Taro’s needs with, and soon they spoke as comrades, though Taro could not shake the wonder of his own existence.

At last, Ryo spoke of himself. He told of a kingdom long past, a thousand years before Taro’s time, where he had wandered the great forests of Azurae. He had trained with a spirit of a Royal Protector long dead, learning the knowledge of arcane magic. His form, A flowing essence of ice

He had mastered what others could not: the forbidden art of Clockveil, and with its relic, the Staff of Time, he could slow, stop, or even rewind the threads of destiny. It was by this power he had spared Taro from death’s will. Yet the magic bore a curse: eternal youth, a gift that had become a curse.

Ryo had fled Azurae to dwell beyond the Rondo peaks, guarding the fallen kingdom from the shadow from beasts and creatures beyond imagination. While yearning for the peace of mortal age, he thought it was a peace he would never taste.