Once upon a time in a distant land, already old when your world was still young, under the vast sky in the northeast of Valenia, this is where our story begins. Many stories have begun this way, so why shouldn’t this one be told the same way. Far from all people and far from all attention, a secret was born.

There, in the land of ice and cold, carried by a black stormy night, a starry tear sank down to the ground. Its light shone upon the icy floes and frozen water, even the wind glowed. The howling of the storm was replaced by silence and the elements gazed in awe at the shimmer of hope. The lonely tear sank to the ground and the glow faded. Yet, amidst the roaring forces of nature, a solemn silence emanated from that place. Neither the storm, nor the ice, nor the snow dared to touch this place. The tear had fallen. Fallen from the Magic River who, filled with sorrow, foresaw the doom that he brought into the world with the creation of the dragons. But at that time, the world knew neither good nor evil, and so, along with the primordial dragon Favelnir, his brother, the primordial dragon Morgonir, was created. Thus it came to pass that both dragons filled the new world with life. And so there was now faith and love, but also cunning and deceit in the world. The river could now see quite clearly that the vrothers would on day be enemies. A conflict was inevitable. This was the reason the Magic River was crying. Because one thing isn’t just bad and the other isn’t just good, and he loved his children equally.

The tear, however, was forgotten, and even now, only a distant memory remains of the events of that night. Whispers circulate in the halls of our time of great treasures and fearsome creatures, of adventurers who never returned, and the immeasurably vast Frozen Wastes at the edge of reality lie silent.