It was the eve of the summer solstice. The dark sky held but one being.
The north star.
It shone brightly, as if rejoicing, as if foreseeing.
And suddenly, a powerful, golden light rippled throughout the universe. After several seconds, the light became a thin beam shining upon the altar stone of Stonehenge.
A lone figure of a black-haired man stood upon the hills of Wiltshire. His blue eyes glowed like sapphires. They came closer and closer to the ruins of an ancient civilization's ritual grounds.
"Finally, the summer solstice has come," The figure said, as he raised his arm to touch the beam of light. He pulled out an ancient rune-inscribed dagger from his coat pocket and slashed his palm. Drops of his crimson blood landed on the spot the beam touched. After a second it burst into twelve rays that pointed in opposite directions.
"Let the Millienium War, BEGIN."