Once upon a time, in a world of all-natural mages, there lived some who rebelled against the natural order of things. Rather than use plants and sunlight to heal and nurture, they used blood sacrifice to raise the dead and poison the living. These scalawags were known as dark mages and were hated and feared by all. One dark mage could conquer seventeen natural mages, however for every two thousand and thirty three natural mages, there was only half a dark mage. Dark mages lived in recluse, huddled in fear of being hunted, surrounded, and slaughtered by the all-naturals and their wimpy basil.

Luckily for the dark mages, or unluckily for the all-naturals, there was no way to tell a dark or natural apart. That is, aside from the hues of their magic. Pinching and prodding plants, soil and sun at all times infused all-natural magic with greens, browns and golds. Swirling blood and poison day in and out tainted dark magic with deep reds and violets. However as dark mages were few and far in between, many have only heard legends of the terrifying and captivating splendor of the twilight magic.

In a ramshackle cabin built on an island in the middle of the emerald bay, was an enchantingly gorgeous ragamuffin biblioklept who adored sneaking around town and swiping books. She was keenly interested in the art of beautifying her magic. For she was proud to be an all-natural, yet loathed the vile puke-green river sputtering from her fingertips. The visions of projectile vomit evoked nausea and queeze, so she tinkered and tampered, chasing the legend of the brilliant twilight hues.

Less than three moons passed before a gaggle of all-natural guardians gathered. The rumor of a dark mage hidden within this dingy town was a siren call, beckoning the proud and self-important from far and wide. Their hunt led them to a creepy, creaky cabin, surrounded by a moat of hazardous rapids - unmistakably the hideout of a ghastly dark mage. But when they surrounded and infiltrated, ready to deliver the killing blow, they found a dazzling young maiden canoodling her roses, violets and pansies. From her fingertips poured brilliant hues of reds and violets which shimmered and shined, nurturing and healing all. The guardians at the forefront stayed their assault, but the guardians at the rear were enlightened too late.

What was her sin? None other than to be a visionary, to break away from the humdrum of normalcy.

The resplendent young maiden perished, but gave rise to a wave that rippled throughout the kingdom. No longer did beauty indicate evil. No longer did puke-green reign above all. The lands were interwoven with magic of every color, and became a safe haven for the survivors who renamed themselves. The twilight mages.