Disclaimer: This world and the characters in it are adapted from the world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. I do not claim to own any of these characters or places, nor do I claim that this story is a part of the original canon of the Harry Potter series.

Now please don't sue me…

(A/N): This is my first story guys! Please be nice about your review, but make sure to give useful critiques so I can improve my general story. Thanks buddies :)

Prologue

Once upon a time.

Seems like an innocent beginning, doesn't it? Cinderella, The Sleeping Beauty, Snow White - all those beautiful little fairy tales, those wonderful delights that make children laugh and dance and clap, begin with these words.

But each of those stories has a darker, much more mature past, histories hidden behind a veil of happiness and joy.

And so too does this story have a dark past.

Once upon a time, dragons soared the skies, free from the threat of kingdoms, free from the threat of armies, free from the threat of death. Once upon a time, the stout dwarves feasted and drank in the open, free from the fear of enslavement. Once upon a time, the willowy elves danced across the meadows, their songs of magic sweeping through the land, growing tiniest of saplings into the sturdiest of oaks.

Once upon a time, Magic was practiced freely in the lands.

Under the Mages, fire leapt through the glades of the forests, twirling and intertwining, harming not a single blade of grass in a beautiful dance of lights. The purest of waters swirled through the streams, giving life to the land around them. Terra herself obeyed their command, her slabs of granite and rich earth bending to form the greatest of structures. The wind kissed the roses and lilies, flowed through the branches of the trees, caressed the mountains and hills. It was the most majestic and wondrous of times. This was the Pre-Historia.

This was the time before the history of the humans.

The humans were once a part of the natural, magical order. They were created by Prometheus, the Titan who molded them from clay. They were gentle, kind, and loving, the true epitome of a perfect race. Their control and guidance over Magic was powerful, strong, and mighty.

It is said that Prometheus, in a fit of rage at the treatment of the Gods, molded this creation to be the destruction of the world the Gods held dear. And destroy the humans did.

The humans turned terrible and jealous, and sought to conquer the world. Their vast armies marched across the plains, decimating the dew-soaked grasses and lighting the fires of Ragnarok. Their companions, the war-dogs that Prometheus had provided them, hunted to death the tiny gnomes, the hunting-falcons ripping to shreds the twinkling faeries. The demons they summoned from the deepest parts of Tartarus unleashed the death of Hell upon the world. The dwarves the humans enslaved, the elves they brutalized. The magical order of the world was destroyed in a single fell swoop.

The Gods, of course, were enraged. Even as their order fell and their powers became weaker, they vanquished Prometheus, destroying and sealing away the demons. Eventually, after eons of war, Ragnarok came. The endless armies of the corrupted humans faced off against the scraps and remnants of a once-powerful magical order. The Gods, and their side, were crushed.

But before the last God, Hecate, died, she threw with the might of the Last God a final curse. The twisted perversion of the humans that Prometheus had created were destroyed, their weakest and kindest preserved and turned into magic-less beings. And so, as the Last God died, so too did the power of the Fel.

Over time, the land regrew. But it never came back with the beauty and wonder of the Old Land. The dwarves, the elves, the faeries, the gnomes; they all vanished into the farthest reaches of human memory, their names and existences reduced to mere fairy tales. The magic-less humans were the only remnants of the Old Land left, and even they forgot what once was.

But some of the Old Land remained.

The elves were graced with powerful magic. Their remnants were no exception. As the remnants merged and mated with magic-less humans, their offspring were blessed with the same ability. Magic flowed deep in their veins, ready at their command.

And eventually, long after the end of the Last God, the Mages were reborn.

(A/N): Make sure to read and Review! Next chapter will be the true start of the story and will be uploaded soon. Thanks :D