Please bear in mind that this is my first upload and I am only seeing how it goes...this story is going to be based on fairy tail in the next chapter so I will do the rights stuff...I do not own fairy tail or any fairy tail characters...however I have made some original characters but I don't know the legal stuff...please enjoy the story...there is more to come...this sets up for a BIG story...feedback is always welcome...thanks :)

Prologue:

Long ago, in the first age and forming of the land we now know as Fiore, there was a fierce war. This war was one born from a hatred of magic, a now sacred art. This war began with the banishment of magic and laws preventing the use of magic. The laws made by a gathering of priests of the order or 'Alzean' ,who despised magic and began to think they rule absolute.

As the laws were set, a rebellion was formed in defense of the art of magic and the war began. A bloody conflict raged for 50 long, painful years and many lives were lost for magic. As the conflict drew close to conclusion, magic prevailing, the priests of Alzean began to feel desperate and looked towards darker means of conclusion. In a final, desperate attempt to cleanse the realm of magic the religious order used the very force they sought to destroy.

Many priests gathered to cast an ancient and forbidden spell that even the dark lord Zeref would not attempt. The toll for such an evil spell was blood and soul. In order to complete this ritual the Alzean order gathered millions of citizens of Fiore, innocent bystanders, and committed the largest genocide ever known in the history of the realm. Millions of souls were offered to the spell. Preparations were made for the dark ritual of apocalyptic power and the rebellion was broken with fear and panic for this could be their last night in this realm yet hope still stood for magic and the realms existence. The gate set to be opened, the High-Priest ordered for the spell to be activated one man seemed to form from the shadows, blocking the path to the gate and possible destruction.

The shadowy figure donned a dark cloak that flowed about him, drawing the shadows surrounding him towards him as if he was cloaked in the shadows themselves. His armored boots echoed through the ranks of the silent priests as he stepped forward. Shoulder pauldrons rested on his tall, strong figure holding his cloak of shadows upon his back. The cloak seemed to cover most of the figures body yet an armored chest plate was clearly visible holding a dark red emblem that felt as if it was radiating power. The cloaks hood was drawn over the mysterious figures head and though there should have been sufficient light to see beyond, the hood seemed to fall into shadow as if darkness itself shrouded his face. Two large katanas protruded from his back.

The rebellion seemed heartened at the appearance for this figure they seemed to recognize. The word was passed through the rebellion saying, "The Lost Legend returns!" or, " the Shadow King defends us." The rebellion cheered at the sight of the figure for he was a lost legend amongst the realm, said to defend the existence of the realm. The High-Priest was angered by the disturbance,

"Do you truly believe you can stand against my army," the priest spreading his arms showing off his army, "I don't know who you are but I do know what you will be. Dead!"

The legend slowly started to walk toward the priest army,

"I am the guardian of this realm and all others, if you wish it's destruction you must first defeat me." The figure shouted, his deep and powerful voice echoing through the corrupt religion facing him.

"You are nothing compared to the might of the Alzean order!" Shouted the High-Priest, angry at being doubted.

"I am the Shadow Trained, son of Evil yet Guardian of Good," shouted the legend, "I will grant you a final chance to give up"

"Begone with you, your simply a nuisance to my power," shouted the High-Priest, obviously irritated, "Get him!" Thousands of armed priests advanced on the lone figure yet still unsure as he radiated power. The dark figure slowly drew 2 dark katanas from his back and raised both above his head. Chanting in a ancient and lost tongue, the two swords started to glow with black and purple energy. The dark army still unsure, continued to advance. Suddenly ceasing his chanting, the figure thrust the bladed in front of his face causing them to erupt in dark energy, spiraling above and around him.

Within seconds the energy formed a huge dragon of phantom energy created from the shadows themselves. Many priests dropped to their knees in submission and began to pray at the very sight of the phantom, some ran in fear of the shadow embodiment yet neither were safe from the phantom shadow that soon engulfed. Within minutes the battlefield was clear of all priests but one. The High-Priest kneeled, crying in awe and fear. The legend advanced on his final target, phantom circling in the storm clouds above his blades.

"Do you swear to do no further harm to this world? You will be cursed with eternal life where you may discover peace or once again wage war. Eternal life will not include immortality, you can still be killed, you may continue living or you will die and live in eternal purgatory. It is your choice. Do you accept your punishment?" Asked the figure calmly.

"Ye...y...yes," the High-Priest stuttered as he trembled before him, "Wh...Who are you?" Stuttered the trembling wreck.

"Me? I told you did I not. I am the Shadow Trained, son of Evil yet Guardian of Good. In short, legends all depict me as, Shadow Realm."

The High-Priest couldn't see behind the hood yet he sensed this Shadow Realm was smiling. Not an evil, cruel smile at his pain but a peaceful, forgiving smile. The High-Priest passed out as the dark figure slowly dissolved into the shadows before him.

End of prologue...