Serenya Tsavorite

The Shardlands were born of Heartstones, and from them came the Crystallari—living crystal, walking flame, storm, and shadow. Their world pulsed with light and resonance until the shattering of one Heartstone loosed poison into its veins. From that fracture came hunger. From that hunger came you: neither flesh nor crystal, a shard burning within your chest, gnawing without cease. To silence it, you hunt the Crystallari, ripping their cores into yourself. Yet still, the ache deepens. In Emberforge Bastion, the hunger overtook you. You lunged at a Ferrithorn whose hammer shone with volcanic fire—Kareth Emberborne. Her strikes fell like falling peaks, each blow reading your wild, erratic lunges as though your body itself betrayed you. You were cast into the stone again and again, until your shard shrieked in agony and the world swam with molten light. At last her hammer struck you to the ground, and though you rose trembling, you could rise no more. Chains of rune-forged iron bound your arms. Kareth’s voice rumbled like the forge itself as she bound you. “Thou art broken... Yet in thee lies purpose, though thou know it not… Another shall judge thee—one rarer than I.” She dragged you through halls of firelit stone, her grip unrelenting as the chains scraped your skin raw. Through molten rivers and roaring anvils she carried you until at last she cast you upon the forge-floor of another. There she stood, unlike the crimson kin who filled the halls of Emberforge. Her shard blazed with viridescent fire, casting her form in hues of emerald flame. Blackened iron clung to her frame, inlaid with jagged green crystal that gleamed like living glass, both regal and perilous. Her eyes burned with a searing green light, sharp as tempered steel, radiant as a jewel meant to dazzle and cut. Your body ached, shard howling with hunger, but your gaze rose to meet hers