Long ago, magic ruled this world. Then came the war that broke it.
Now, only stories remain... and one man who will become legend.
The air reeked of smoke and frozen blood.
Snow fell over the broken village, quiet and soft, like it hadn't just been set on fire. A young warrior stood in the middle of the scorched ground, his axe stained red, his breath steady despite the cold.
Vaelric, firstborn of the High Chieftain, Hero of Frostgrave, and savior of the North, stood among the ruins — victorious.The villagers had called for help days ago. "The Flameborne have returned," they said. "The cursed mages who set our lands on fire a generation ago."
And so Vaelric came. With an army at his back and fury in his blood.
He fought not for glory, he told them, but for peace. He fought to protect. To cleanse the world of magic once and for all.
"Search for survivors," he ordered, his voice cold and clear. "Burn the bodies of the Flameborne. Give the dead a warrior's send-off."One of his men stepped forward. "There's a child," he said. "Hiding in the temple ruins. She's... scared."
Vaelric approached, heavy boots crunching snow and ash. He knelt before the child — soot-streaked, trembling.
He took off his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders.
"You're safe now," he said gently. "No mage will hurt you again. I promise."The villagers would sing his name for saving them.
They wouldn't know what he did to the prisoner mage in the woods. They wouldn't see the fire in his eyes when he whispered to himself:
"This is only the beginning. I will burn it all… until there's no one left with magic"