When God crafted his world, he left a line down the center. To one side, It granted the luminaries; to the other, the shadowfolk. It partitioned the sun to one side, granting the luminaries bright light and vibrancy; to the other, It partitioned the twin moons, granting the shadowfolk nuance and subtlety.
Perhaps the two sides were fated to conflict; they certainly began existence at odds. Each strove for recognition in competitions that pitted artists, crafters and athletes. With each win, both sides committed themselves to further glory in the name of their shared God and creator.
The end came when the luminary craftsman Prometheus declared its masterwork was complete. Once hailed as perhaps the most genius creator of all who lived, it had confined itself to its workshop hundreds of years before; after abruptly reappearing, it issued a challenge to all -- that none could best its final work. It promised to unveil the masterpiece only when 100 challengers appeared. Shadowfolk craftsmen answered, and each showed its wondrous creations. However, when Prometheus unveiled its invention, each fell silent with shame. Prometheus had created something that could think and create for itself. Though it seemed a pale imitation of the luminaries and shadowfolk, it boasted a generative drive and power of its own. Unlike either of God's races, the beings -- humans -- could unite to create more of their own; they changed with age and, eventually, died.
Having clearly won the challenge, Prometheus then declared that it had divined the true purpose of creation -- for each to strive to become God itself. Breaking tradition, Prometheus claimed the glory of creation for itself.
Immediately, the sky darkened and clouds filled the sky. Thunder streaked across the heavens. Terrified, the luminaries and shadowfolk alike cowered. Only Prometheus stood unbowed. Humanity sought refuge under their creator, clinging to its legs and pleading for its assisstance. But it was to no avail. God Itself appeared above the grounds. In Its rumbling voice, It uttered a phrase -- something that only Prometheus seemed to understand. The maker answered simply and firmly -- a single "yes." In the moment that followed, all in attendance stood transfixed, seeing an anger and hatred in the Creator they could never have envisioned; in that moment, each understood that its life was nothing before the wrath of God.
Then, the moment passed. God waved Its hands, and luminaries and shadowfolk doubled over, feeling hunger for the first time. God again waved Its hands again, and fatigue set in to the minds and bodies of Its creations. God again waved its hands, but nothing seemed to happen; then It retreated. God's steady presence -- a reassuring, always-present comfort -- disappeared. Never again would God respond to prayer, and never again would It return to Its creations.
Despite their sudden exhaustion, the shadowfolk grabbed hold of Prometheus, asking what God had said. They shook the crafter, demanding that it answer to them. An unfamiliar sensation crept through the shadowfolk -- one of anger. It was followed with frustration, then hatred and, finally -- bloodlust. One picked up a rock and struck the defiant Prometheus. It fell to the ground and uttered no words. In fear, the shadowfolk scattered, leaving the humans to mourn their fallen master.
(In the interest of wrapping up the details, and keeping even remotely true to the 500-word guideline, here's a bullet of the current situation.)
- The spirits of both the luminaries and the shadowfolk are eternal. When one dies, it is re-formed as a member of the opposite race. They are now also mortal; while aging doesn't take a toll on their bodies the way it does for humans, they will eventually die of old age. A newly formed member of either race is born with a fanatical devotion to either light or shadow; this forms the core of their beliefs. Both sides, in essence, are forcibly locked into, at best, a distaste for the other. A given being's base personality stays the same between incarnations.
- The luminaries and shadowfolk do not have gender and cannot procreate. While the numbers of each race can vary, the overall number of beings is always the same.
- Prometheus, the first of God's creations to die, has re-formed hundreds of times. He always lives apart from his fellows, and he alone seems to have no particular attachment to either light or shadow.
- Both the luminaries and the shadowfolk blame each other, to certain degrees, for God's departure. They both also believe that It can be summoned or convinced to return if they simply pay enough homage to It. In the current age, that homage is most often paid in the form of blood sacrifice -- the sacrifice, of course, being members of the opposing race.
- Humanity prospers as a relatively free agent in the twilight area between the world's halves, but many communities serve either the luminaries or the shadowfolk. These groups often proselytize to other humans and work to undermine the opposing race's efforts. Some small bands attach themselves to a given individual being, following it regardless of its current race. Prometheus has a selection of such humans.
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