The mountains rose like omnipotent gods into a sky clouded with dark plumes of smoke. The aftermath of a decade-long war ravaged the borderlands between Adrastos and K’erdan, blood watering the soil like rain. The bodies of felled soldiers lay scattered, their forgone steel swords and armour scintillating in the first light of dawn.
Thunder struck and from deep within the belly of an open ravine a rumble resounded before rocks scattered from its walls. The crack, the fissure in the world, opened further, its bottom giving way to a pool of magma that bubbled to the surface. Steam hissed, heat wafting over the winter winds like a phantom of death.
The massif quaked, the earth quivering as fire and flame spilled over the lip of the chasm, scorching the arid grounds. But just as the rumble began, it stopped. The wave of red receded back into the fissure as a flurry of creatures rose. Some had leathery wings that shone in the sunlight like Caarseikk Spidersilk; others crawled out on talon-tipped feet. And their skin was a dark ebony with an oily sheen. Dragons, Wyverns, Wyrms and more. Birthed from the chasms beside the hellish firepool beneath the mountains.
In their wake came a flurry of curling tendrils in every colour known and unknown to man; it quavered and slithered, sluicing through air like a watersnake. Magic… of all forms and breeds cut through the lands, finally spearing into the bodies of unaware folk, churning in their blood, thrumming in their veins until it had made them anew. In the midst of this pullulating vigour was a stygian darkness– Skotadi Magic; The Art of the Condemned. It ripped into the souls of men, women and children alike and those with weaker hearts perished with their eyes turned into whirlpools of obsidian. But the few that persevered were granted immense power that carved itself a home in the marrow of their bones.
Several centuries later, Adrastoan children would point to the summits that rose over the wall around the Capitol, whispering of the Legend of the Ul’tamuq. The Legend of the Mountainous Birthing. Elders would relentlessly worship the gargantuan beasts that rose from the Kiirikul Peaks, erecting stone monuments in their name. The lands would hoist brocaded flags with symbols of the reptilian creatures, singing their devout prayers to the winds.
However, the four countries of the K’erdan continent slunk away, driven by both fear and repulsion. They condemned the birth of this new religion, hissing and snarling at the genesis of all things magic. The K’erdanese Kings forbade the proliferation of this newfound power, exiling those within the continent who possessed its cold, cunning prowess.
The Adrastoan Empress, lacking her usual combative nature, approached the Kings with a notion of peace. Months after the unprecedented idea was proposed, a treaty was passed. The Vaarven Treaty– named after the Vaarven War of 1407, fought between the two continents. The concordat between the nations enabled an exchange of their pupils– those in Adrastos, without even a semblance of magic, would be sent to K’erdan and those in K’erdan, with even the slightest trickle of otherworldly power, would be sent to Adrastos. After this enactment of peace, meant to symbolise the unity between the continents, wards were established around K’erdan.
These wards, discovered by scholars within the region through immense studies revolving around magic and its sparse weaknesses, were founded to prevent the threat of the sheer potential simmering in Adrastos to put the nation to rout; should the empire, with its years of unbridled animosity, decide to transgress or violate the terms of the treaty.
A cataclysmic culture grew, however, unaware of a dark, slumbering secret.