My people had been peaceful for more than a million years—my grandmother, her grandmother, and so on and so forth. Tens of thousands of generations before me, we were peaceful.
For war with us would lead to the destruction of the universe. At least, that was what my mother told me.
The evaniels, descendants of Van, an existence far beyond the very concept of life and death.
And I am the queen of my people, was the queen.
Some queen I am now, the last of my kind—and my people, my family fought for a world that would soon forget us.
But that was alright, we did not do it for recognition. We did it for survival, of us, of everyone else.
My people, my family, fought for the world.
My people, my family…
…but not me.
I didn't want to break our oath.
I wanted to keep our peace, even as the war against the gods waged on.
I didn't want what happened to our ancestors to happen again.
I didn't fight the gods.
I, Queen Vania, descendant of Van, chose not to fight.
