CHILD OF ECLIPSE (THE TRIBRID)

Thousands of years ago, there was a place called Arcadia — a hidden haven where the Vampires, the Werewolves, and the Witches coexisted and lived in harmony and peace away from the human world. They were governed by benevolent leaders, who were directly blessed by the Moon Goddess, called the Triumvirate. The Lord King of the Vampires Clan, the Alpha King of the Werewolves Pack, and the Grand Queen of the Witches Coven. Arcadia is a place where the beauty of the natural world and the gothic grandeur of architecture co-exist in a breathtaking paradox. It's a paradise where danger and serenity both exhilarate and soothe the soul. A power of both untamed and refined civilization, this land was a haven where supernatural creatures find refuge. The three races had a deep respect for each other's power that led them to a natural alliance. They have all benefited from living together by helping each other. Despite the peace, the tension of power struggles grew intense that led them into a devastating war. The Moon Goddess was not pleased, and thus the prophecy was made. In the dark of the eclipse, a child shall be born, with powers of the three races, a lineage sworn. Vampire's fangs, Werewolf's claw, Witch's spells, in one soul draw. A Child of Eclipse shall hold the key to all, the power to rise or the power to fall. Chaos and peace, a challenge of her might, the world's future depends on her sight. Amidst howling winds and raging flames, quaking lands and storming seas' claims, her fate is witnessed by nature's command, yet destiny shall be written by her own hand. Fueled by hope and fear of the prophecy, the Triumvirate dispatched their most powerful scouts into the world to seek out the Child of Eclipse. They see it as the key to securing their dominion, a crucial instrument for achieving their ultimate ambitions. When the dust settled after the war, weary and scarred, scattered like seeds in the wind. Witches retreated to hidden covens, their knowledge veiled in whispers. Vampires lurked in forgotten shadows, their hunger a constant reminder of the fallen clan. Werewolves, their packs broken, settled in foreign lands, howling their lament under a broken moon. History became a haunting melody, sung in hushed tones around flickering fires. Tales of the war, of the Triumvirate, and of the Child of Elipse, prophesied to restore balance, faded into legend. Generations passed, and history was just a faded memory, a tale of obscured truth became a bedtime story for children through the sands of time. Thousands of years later, on a night bathed under the glow of the blood moon, a scream pierces the stillness of a vast forest. Deep within its heart, a woman gives birth. Under the watchful eye of the crimson orb, a baby was born with silver-white hair and eyes reflecting the unearthly light. With a final whisper, the mother wove a protective spell around her child, a safeguard ensuring her living legacy. "In mortal flesh, three bloods shall bind, but slumber deep, till eighteen chimes unwind."