A hundred years ago the old crown broke, and the realms broke with it. Hearthmoor held the center. Skarrow, Duskmere, and Cael Ador drifted to their own ruin — raided, drowned, and buried in turn.
You wash ashore in Hearthmoor with nothing but a name. The hearthfolk will feed you, arm you, and point you toward the fighting — Chapter I is a war of four kingdoms, and it needs hands.
But dig past the first skirmishes and the ground answers back. Barrows that predate every kingdom. Runes no living tongue can read. Something was here before the crown, before the fracture — and it did not stay buried by accident.
Green heartlands where every saga begins. Hedgerows, hamlets, and wheat fields have stood undisturbed since before the fracture — Hearthmoor measures its troubles in bad harvests, not raiders at the gate. Every path starts here, and the realm knows it: quiet enough to learn on, close enough to the old roads that nothing stays quiet for long.
A frozen vale that remembers the raiders. Longships beached here once, and the ice still holds their keels — Skarrow's clans built their halls from what the sea-raiders left behind, then learned to raid in turn. The vale doesn't forgive strangers easily, but it respects anyone who can hold an axe through a Skarrow winter.
The fen keeps what it drowns. Duskmere's water never quite settles, and neither do the lights that drift over it after dark — will-o'-wisps some swear are lost travelers, others swear are older than travel. Whatever wanders into the marsh answers to it, sooner or later.
A golden kingdom, broken and waiting. Cael Ador was the grandest of the four before its dome cracked and its arches fell — gold dust still settles over every ruin like the city hasn't finished collapsing. Whoever reaches its throne room first will have to decide what's worth restoring.
Hold the line. Be the wall others live behind.
Stand where the fight is worst — Wardens don't out-damage a fight, they outlast it.
Every wilderness has a warden of its own.
Pick the fight before it starts — thin the enemy from range, then finish what's left.
Some runes were buried for a reason.
Burn hot and fast — Warlocks trade safety for damage every time.
Abilities are earned, not ground out. Prove yourself in training dungeons to evolve every skill — and keep it forever. Gear is seasonal; mastery is yours.
The first kill of every boss grants Heart Points to spend on max health — forever.
Every choice phases your realm. Your Yrsvald isn't quite the same as anyone else's.
Training dungeons are skill checks, not grinds — clear one clean, and the ability itself changes forever.
Four realms. Sixty-plus quests. One chapter to start the saga. Here's what's coming first.
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