Marked

Prolouge - The Eleven

There was magic in this world, a long time ago. There still is magic, it lingers on, yet not as it was once known. Once there was great magic, so powerful it could shake the ground, and eleven people who wielded it, so great that they could barely be called humans.Together they were a formidable force and their names were known across the world. Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple, Pink, Brown, Grey, White and Black. Each had their own power and they brought color itself to the world, modeled in their names and their images, a blessing for all to see.

But with this great power there was unrest, and eventually the peace came to an inevitable end. The eleven fought. Grey, staying as neutral as possible as those who he once called his friends fought. Surrounding him in battles, cursing the world with fear and bringing death upon whoever they must. Each of the eleven slowly grew a following, with those who wished to avoid the bloodshed grouping under the protection of Grey.

The chaos and destruction grew, with no sign of stopping. Orange wielded their mighty flames across the sky before Blue sent a tsunami to extinguish them. Green's vines grew unnaturally fast, smothering and suffocating all as they went, ruthlessly. Yellow flung bursts of bright, blinding light into the sky and all the while, Grey hid his few followers in a gap in the rubble, frantically using all of his power to keep their hiding space from collapsing. The destruction was cataclysmic, and the world was nearly destroyed.

That was when the gods stepped in, they stripped the 11 wielders of almost all their power. Curses were bestowed upon every single person, leaving the world in even greater ruins then it was before.

The fighting and seemingly endless death finally came to a halt. It had to- now the eleven beings that were once comparable to the gods themselves, were powerless mortals...

The curse that befell the world was as follows:

"Thou are cursed to leave a mark of the color you follow on the skin of anyone you touch. If thee wish to be split into groups then so be it. Mere mortals, whomst cannot part yourselves from war will be forced to stay far from one that is not of your own beliefs."

The gods saw that Grey had done nothing but try to keep the peace, so although they removed his powers, they didn't give him and his followers the full extent of the curse.

Eventually, life resumed as a new normal- the world split into ten tribes. The grey chose not to form their own tribe, as peace was always their goal, and instead they were accepted into whichever tribe they chose, being free to wander between tribes as they wished.

And this is where our story begins. 

~474 words~