Hjazir

In the age before iron and after frost, when the gods still walked among mortals, the world fell ill—rivers choked with ash, forests silenced, and beasts vanished. The Æsir were distant, but from the heart of Jötunheim, where no axe had ever bitten wood, the earth trembled. Roots shattered stone. Vines surged like serpents. And from the soil rose **Hjazir, the Verdant Sovereign**, born of Yggdrasil’s forgotten root and the tears of the earth herself. With a touch, green fire bloomed—trees erupted skyward, healing herbs sang with power, and the wild bowed to his silent will. When a fire wyrm came to burn the land, he did not fight with steel, but sang through roots, turning flame to moss. He forged the **Sacred Grove**, where time slows and wounds mend in hours. Eternal, watchful, growing—he stands as the world’s quiet guardian. And it is said: *When the last leaf falls, Hjazir will wake again—and the world will bloom anew.*