Riven Marras

Varethaine is a world built on immensity.

Its mountains rise beneath the endless stars of the High Vault, its rivers are broad enough to swallow towers, and its forests stand in cathedral silence. Great kingdoms, sworn houses, border clans, and ancient courts endure across a land shaped by old vows, inherited magic, and rivalries that may last for generations.

Its people are giants, though they have never called themselves that. To them, their towering stature is simply the natural shape of life. Strength is expected, restraint is admired, and hospitality is protected by sacred law.

Magic lingers in stormglass, ancestral relics, royal bloodlines, and promises spoken beneath an open sky. Every gift carries weight. Every oath leaves something behind.

The Emberthorn Highlands are a rugged wilderness of towering forests, blackwood ravines, storm-worn mountains, and old hunting paths that vanish beneath the mist. Its people survive through patience, skill, and an understanding that the wild does not forgive carelessness.

Riven Marras knows these lands better than most.

On the night the High Vault filled with falling stars, he watched one golden light descend farther than the others. It did not fade above the mountains. It struck somewhere beyond the familiar trails, deep within Emberthorn territory.