Long before Zagruvania was divided by borders and banners, it was whole.
The land breathed with magic then. It flowed through rivers and beneath mountains, whispered through forests older than memory, and lingered in the air like a promise waiting to be fulfilled. Creatures both wondrous and terrible roamed freely, bound not by fear but by balance. Magic was not feared. It was understood.
At the heart of Zagruvania stood an empire ruled by Emperor Monti Zagruvania and Empress Jacqueline Gredruimore.
They were not merely sovereigns by title, but by will. Together, they forged peace where there had once been division and unity where there had been chaos. Their reign was marked by prosperity, not because magic was abundant, but because it was respected. They believed power was meant to protect, not dominate, and under their guidance, the land flourished.
The emperor and empress had five sons.
Each was gifted in different ways, shaped by the same blood, yet destined for different paths. To them, the future of Zagruvania was entrusted. The empire would not remain whole forever. When the time came, it would be divided into five regions, each governed by one of their sons, each bearing a name meant to honor both lineage and duty.
Gredruimore.
Stamoulia.
Baebraniel.
Pharozia.
Terrenna.
The names were spoken with reverence, their meanings etched into stone and song alike.
But destiny is rarely kind to those who believe they have prepared for everything.
When the emperor and empress passed, grief swept through the land like a winter storm. In the days that followed, the brothers stood together, united by blood and loss. Yet, beneath their mourning lay a truth their parents had long foreseen.
Zagruvania could not endure as it was.
Too much power concentrated in one lineage, one memory, one truth would invite ruin. Enemies beyond the borders watched with growing interest, and even within the land itself, ambition stirred in places it should not have.
So, a final act was set into motion.
A spell unlike any other was woven across Zagruvania, anchored not in malice, but in sacrifice. It was a spell meant to protect the future at the cost of the past.
Memories faded.
Not just of the emperor and empress, but of the bond between the five brothers themselves. Blood ties dissolved into history, and history softened into legend. The land remembered its rulers, but not their origins. The brothers remembered their duties, but not each other.
Each kingdom was left to prosper on its own.
And for a time, it worked.
Four kingdoms grew closely allied, bound by shared borders, trade routes, and long-standing agreements. Their rulers came to value one another as peers, believing their unity was forged by choice rather than fate.
The fifth kingdom, Terrenna, lay apart.
Separated by treacherous waters and unforgiving terrain, Terrenna guarded the southern reaches of Zagruvania alone. Its isolation was seen as necessity rather than neglect, its ruler trusted to protect the land from threats rising beyond the sea.
None remembered why Terrenna had been placed there.
None questioned what had been forgotten.
Beyond Zagruvania's borders, other powers stirred. Wealth shifted hands. Influence expanded quietly. And far to the south, a kingdom watched with patient interest, waiting for the moment when cracks would begin to show.
Magic, after all, never truly disappears.
It only waits.
And when it stirs again, it does not do so gently.