Daeva; monsters, the lot of them. Born humans, they forsake their family and friends at the first hint of "potential" to become semi-immortal megalomaniacs. Kill them and they return to life through their ill-gotten astral powers.

Daeva; fools, the lot of them, even moreso than my kin. The vast majority of my fellow mortals believe their lies of omnipotence, of superiority, of infallibility. They rule us from above, afar. Upon an almost-mythical throne in a floating city, their most prized accomplishment, sits one of their leaders, perfect and untouchable. I've touched him. I've seen his hideously beautiful face, smelled his disgustingly attractive scent. It wasn't a pleasant experience, I assure you.

Daeva; warmongers, the lot of them. Battling their kin for control of the sky, blaming each other for their own foul deeds against the land, against moral code, against the spirit of Eternity itself. They destroyed our lives, our land; their land, their past. We mortals will show them the error of their ways. We will force them to remember the truth they've tried to forget, a paradise they've strived so hard to destroy...

This is a story of mortals among gods; of gods among demons.

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