The angels called Grigori were watchers of the way.
From their home in Heaven, they looked down on fields of grain
and for the earth's fair maidens, their hearts did swell and break.
They came down from their kingdom, many children here to make.
Their daughters and their sons we came to call the Nephilim,
but the wrath of the Almighty rose to put an end to them.
He said unto His angels, "you must destroy your seed.
These children go against My plan. Their deaths I do decree."
Many angels listened, compelled by Master's will,
and though their hearts were shattered, their children they did kill.
But upon that day, a brazen few defied the Lord's command,
and took up arms to save their young, but lost their final stand.
Cast down into darkness, there they'd spend eternity.
From lines and hearts all torn apart, the War of the Void broke free.
While the angels and their God were locked in bloody fray,
Another war was stirring between parents and their babes.
The rule of the mighty Titans had long been heaven's way.
Against this rule, the young Olympians began to strain.
The gods cast down their fathers and their mothers to the earth,
no more to walk in glory, but on jagged rock and dirt.
The rift has never healed between these elders and their kin.
The War of Heaven to this day has seen no truce, no end.
And still, beside these wars that raged in Heaven and in Void,
another storm was brewing, yet more balance near destroyed.
The struggle here was ripe between two houses of the Fae,
'twixt children of the seasons. Faerie's kingdom split in twain.
The Winter Court was ruled by she whose heart was made of ice,
who set her mind to rule year round, be coin or blood the price.
The Summer Queen and her bright folk refused to stand aside,
and so the War of Earth began, 'twixt summer sun and wintertide.
In Earth and Void and Heaven, all beings locked in war,
which immortal now will rise to rule forevermore?