Before the first crown was forged, before the first sword was drawn—there were three.
Born of the Old Flame, the Hollow Moon, and the Tempest Sky, they shaped the world not with laws, but with presence. Where they walked, mountains rose. Where they spoke, oceans obeyed.
Jane, the Flame—wrath and rebirth.
Luna, the Moon—silence and memory.
Cia, the Storm—chaos and change.
They were worshipped, then feared. Feared, then betrayed.
The mortals, in their hunger for control, called upon gods of bone and shadow. Together, they wove a curse: Split the sisters. Seal their power. Scatter their names to the wind.
And so the dragon goddesses fell.
Not in death—but in forgetting.
Their bodies became human. Their magic was buried. Their bond was broken.
But no curse is perfect. And time is not merciful.
Now, as the world crumbles and the stars blink out, the flame flickers, the moon stirs, and the sky growls once more.
They are waking.
And nothing will stop their return
...M.J.N
