It was an extinction-level event.
The six schools of magic on Elementhia weren't just defeated; they were erased. The entire world was consumed, leaving behind only a single, jagged shard of reality known as the Radiant Continent.
Even that remnant knew no peace. In the centuries that followed, the Radiant Continent became a playground for warring demigods, its sovereignty changing hands with every new cataclysm.
But in that final moment of planetary death—whether by the grace of the World Tree or the desperate will of the planet's consciousness—Elara was born.
She was forged in disaster, tempered by entropy.
As she walked through the [Stoneheart Temple], her eyes reflected a film reel of history that wasn't hers, yet belonged entirely to her. She saw the rise and fall of civilizations, the hubris of mages, the despair of the dying. These were the memories of a dead world, a treasure trove of lessons written in blood and tears.
