Before time was invented, there was a city. Half of the city was as light as day, and the other half was as dark as night.

A woman of the night slipped into the day, wishing to see the light that was absent from her life. The brightness of light blinded her as she stepped onto the unfamiliar ground, and she darted back into the darkness, unconscious of the shadows she left behind, or the specks of light that fluttered in behind her.

Beyond the limits of the city was what the citizens called The Void. The Void was neither dark, nor light, but a complete emptiness. Nothing ever went in The Void, and nothing ever came out of it.

The boy stepped up to the border, only three paces away, and glanced over his shoulder. The other children were waiting with baited breaths. He gritted his teeth and extended his hand, slowly creeping toward The Void, stopping only a pace away. The boy dropped his hand and let out a sigh of resignation. He ran off between the glistening buildings in pursuit of his friends.

Shadows from the night seeped into the day, arousing the suspicions of the people of the light. An invasion couldn’t be tolerated; war seemed inevitable.

The man smiled. His band of Day-men were ready with their magics prepared. The Night-dwellers wouldn’t have a chance.

Or so they thought.

The girl’s mother had told her that it was long expected that the Daypeople would attack, even before the glimmers of light had appeared. Still, it surprised her when she saw the first slashes of light crossing the border. Though she knew the drill, her hand trembled as she reached out to take the Emblem, the only thing holding back The Void from the city’s innards. She closed her eyes and took it.