Since the dawn of time, long before humankind ever walked the earth, the Druids and the Beasts ruled the vast continent of Māori. The Druids were serene and wise, creatures of calm spirit who drew their strength from nature's pulse. They meditated beneath ancient trees, listening to the breath of the wind and the rhythm of the earth. The Beasts, by contrast, were creatures of instinct and fury, hunters who thrived on competition and measured their worth through strength and dominance.
The two races could not coexist. Their natures were too different, their ideals too far apart. And so, they forged a treaty, a division of the continent into two equal halves. Each swore never to cross into the other's domain, for any who did would be bound by the laws of the land they trespassed upon.
For centuries, peace endured. The Druids flourished in harmony, and the Beasts honed their might in their untamed lands. But then came the humans. It was the early 5th century, an age of conquest and discovery. The humans, armed with ambition and arrogance, sought to claim Māori as they had so many other lands.
The Druids welcomed them with open hands, teaching them the language of the trees and the wisdom of balance. The Beasts met them with claws and fangs, determined to drive them back into the sea. Yet time softened even the fiercest hearts. Gradually, humans earned their place among both races, and unions were formed, producing offspring of mixed blood and new potential.
In time, the Druids ruled their half, and the Beasts their own. Humans governed territories within each domain, though still under their elder rulers' authority. But humankind's desire for dominion is insatiable. By the 6th century, they rose in rebellion, joined by the hybrids they had birthed, and turned their weapons upon the ancient races.
The fall of the Druids and the Beasts marked the empire's darkest hour. The Druids did not fight back; instead, with their dying breath, they cursed Māori to isolation, cut off from all other lands. None would enter, and none would leave. The Beasts resisted until they were broken, and soon even the victors, the humans, turned upon themselves.
Kingdoms emerged from the ashes, warring endlessly for land and power. Alliances formed, fragile and fleeting, among neighbouring realms. The Croft and Lo kingdoms were among these, bound by proximity and desperation.
In the late 9th century, they forged a formidable military alliance known as the Wild Forces, an elite unit drawn from both kingdoms, tasked with leading the charge in the fiercest battles. Among its youngest and most curious members were two princes: the firstborn of Croft and the third prince of Lo, each barely ten years old.
Five years later, an armistice brought a tenuous peace to Māori. The bloodshed ceased, and the empire began to heal. Yet beneath the quiet surface, ancient forces stirred, forgotten powers and sleeping vengeance, waiting for the moment to rise again and strike at the heart of the empire.
And those who had survived the darkness remembered well the destruction that once was.
***
It was a quiet morning. The sun was yet to rise, and the birds were still asleep. The gentle, warm feeling of dawn filled the forest, and it was addictive. Addictive enough to make Aroha come there every morning. She sat on a green patch of grass with her legs crossed and her eyes closed. Every morning, before sunrise, she would meditate on that spot. It had become a ritual for her. Being born into a family of healers, maintaining her energy flow was very important. Her little sister Zhiyi, who was just two years younger, had no problem with that, so she sparsely joined her. Aroha was glad about that, though. It was difficult for her to keep calm around Zhiyi.
The birds had started to wake, and their chatter was starting to irritate Aroha. Amidst the faces she made, she managed to remain calm. Until she heard that voice. The same annoying voice that haunted her everywhere she went. "Good morning, Aroha," her little sister Zhiyi said joyfully.
Why was she so happy this morning? What was there to be happy about? But Zhiyi was always like that. A cheerful young lady. A contrast to Aroha, who never found it difficult to get mad at something or someone. "Why are you so early?" Aroha said, muffling the rage that was already screaming in her head.
Zhiyi walked towards her to face her squarely. Aroha's eyebrows twitched. Zhiyi was closer than she liked. "Are you sure this meditation works? You look angrier every day," Zhiyi teased. She loved getting under Aroha's skin. To everyone else, she was the gentle, charming young lady who could never hurt a fly. To Aroha, she was an annoying little witch who was sent to torture her for crimes she committed in her past life. Crimes that she was unfortunately no longer aware of, if they truly did exist.
"That does it!" Aroha yelled as she chased Zhiyi around the field. The startled birds took flight only to watch the rest of the show from atop the trees. They enjoyed the early morning squabbles between the sisters. Zhiyi's cheerful laugh resounded in their tiny ears while Aroha's vengeful grit shook their little bones. And every time, Aroha would fail to catch Zhiyi. She was surprisingly fast and quick-witted. And their parents would enjoy the sounds from their home that wasn't so far away.
Aroha had long, flowing purple hair and sharp blue eyes, the same as her sister Zhiyi. It was a Renoff trait, passed down from the first Druid-born ancestor. Among the Renoffs, it was a mark of pride and identity. Those born with both traits were regarded as purebloods, while those with only one or neither were known as half-bloods and white-bloods. For generations, the Renoffs had married within their own clans to preserve what they called the purity of their lineage. It was a matter of honour for many, though some had long dismissed it as an outdated tradition.
The Renoffs were a clan of gifted healers whose ancestry could be traced back to the first union between humans and Druids. Though they were not warriors, their contribution to the wars had been immense. Their healing arts had saved countless lives, earning them a reputation so high that they were regarded as nobility, second only to the royal Croft family that ruled the Croft Kingdom. The Renoffs had inherited the Druids' gift of restoration and naturally devoted their lives to the healing craft.
When the armistice was declared and the long wars finally ended, the Renoffs found themselves less essential to the kingdom. A year later, they left the capital and moved to the quiet outskirts of Croft territory, some twenty kilometres from Ranga Village in the Aae Kingdom—the nearest settlement at the time. There, in the heart of the forest, they built a home, seeking a peaceful life.
But peace rarely stays hidden for long. Word of their new home spread quickly, and before two years had passed, people began settling nearby. The small gathering of homes grew into a village known as Juza. Naturally, the Renoffs became its leaders. Gero and Miya Renoff, Aroha and Zhiyi's parents and the heads of the clan, served as the village chiefs.
Zhiyi, ever bright and cheerful, was well-loved by everyone. She had many friends, helped by her sunny nature and her parents' standing. Aroha, on the other hand, preferred solitude. She was quiet, distant, and seemed content that way. Some whispered that she had inherited the Druids' ancient resentment toward humans, though her parents never believed it.
Despite her reserved nature, Aroha was one of the most talented healers her clan had ever seen, surpassed only by her prodigious younger sister. She cherished her solitude, though Zhiyi never allowed her much of it. Zhiyi was a constant presence in her life, a thorn that refused to be plucked. Yet deep down, Aroha loved her little sister. Maybe. In her own quiet way.
It was difficult to tell with Aroha, but one thing was certain: Zhiyi believed they were bound by something unbreakable. "Sisters must always look out for each other," she would say, again and again, until the words became something like a prayer.
And that morning was no different.