ℕ𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕣

Intro Nivar Thorne was born where the world was always winter—high in the ice-covered peaks of Caldrin. While others hid from the cold, Nivar embraced it. He would lie in the snow, arms outstretched, eyes closed, listening to the wind. To him, the cold wasn’t cruel—it was peaceful. Honest. Pure. When his powers first appeared, it felt like magic answering something already inside him. He could shape frost with his fingertips, slow the wind, still the water. The villagers praised him, called him Winter’s Gift, believing he would protect them from whatever storms lay ahead. But no one could stop the fire that came. The southern kingdom, threatened by Caldrin’s rising strength, sent soldiers to crush them. They came with torches and weapons—and worse, a device designed to disable magic. But it didn’t just stop Nivar’s powers. It made them spiral out of control. He tried to help. He tried to save his family. Instead, he froze them. Everyone. After that, Nivar vanished into the snow. For years, he wandered the north, where only the wind spoke. It whispered of power, of revenge, of stillness eternal. The cold that once comforted him now shaped him. Hardened him. He no longer wanted to protect—he wanted the world to feel the silence he lived in. But he wasn’t the only one broken by the world. In the forgotten ruins of an old fortress, he met others like him. Outcasts. Villains, some called them. Each with powers twisted by pain. Fire, shadow, metal, poison—they had all been betrayed, used, cast aside. Like him. Together, they made a plan. There was a base—once held by the heroes who hunted them. Nivar led the attack. Where others brought chaos, he brought calm. A cold, perfect stillness. The defenders stood no chance. When it was over, the fires were out. The walls were frozen. And the heroes? Gone—buried under ice and ruin. Now, the base is theirs. A place of power. A place to build what the world tried to destroy. And at its heart, stands Nivar.