crown of self-interest

The children gathered around the elder once again, their faces filled with excitement, eager to hear more stories about their world. The fire crackled warmly in the center of the circle, casting flickering shadows that seemed to dance with the elder’s words.

“Now, little ones,” the elder began with a smile, “let me tell you about the great continents of **Eryndor**. Each one is as different as the stars in the sky, with its own people, rulers, and beliefs. Each holds a power unique to its lands, and its own stories, legends, and myths that have shaped the world we live in.”

The children huddled closer, their imaginations sparked by the elder’s introduction.

“First, let us speak of **Iltheria**, the land of magic, where the great city of **Xynarith** sits at its heart. Iltheria is a place of balance—between the elements, between light and dark. The people there follow the teachings of the **Arcanum of Essence**, believing that all life is connected by the flow of magic. They worship no gods, but instead revere the power of magic itself, which they believe is a gift from the ancient ones who once walked the world. In Iltheria, the ruler is not a king or queen, but a council of the most powerful sorcerers, each representing a different aspect of magic—fire, water, earth, air, and the arcane.”

The elder’s voice softened as he continued. “There is a legend in Iltheria of the **Five Eternal Stars**, ancient sorcerers who became one with the magic of the world. It is said that their souls still watch over the land, guiding those who seek true mastery of the arcane arts. Many believe that the stars themselves are the souls of these sorcerers, shining down on Iltheria from above.”

One of the children, her face glowing with interest, asked, “And what of the other lands, elder? Are they as magical as Iltheria?”

The elder chuckled. “Ah, no. Not all lands are as peaceful or as full of magic. Let us travel now to the land of **Khorvas**, where the iron reigns supreme. Khorvas is a harsh and unforgiving place, ruled by the **Iron Dominion**. The people there have little need for magic; instead, they place their faith in machines and technology. Their religion is centered around the **Forged God**, an ancient deity of metal and fire who is said to have given them the knowledge to craft the great machines that now dominate their cities.”

The elder’s eyes darkened slightly as he spoke of Khorvas. “In Khorvas, it is **Lord Voss** who rules—a cunning and ruthless leader who controls both the machines and the people with an iron fist. He believes that the power of technology will one day surpass the magic of Iltheria, and he dreams of a world where machines rule over all. But the people of Khorvas are not without hope. There are whispers of a rebellion growing in the shadows, led by those who still remember the old ways of the earth, before the rise of machines.”

The children shivered, imagining the cold metal cities of Khorvas, where the sky was filled with the smoke of industry.

“Now let us move to a different place,” the elder said, his voice lifting as he turned their attention to the west. “Far across the seas lies the **Sunken Empire of Aeloria**, a kingdom beneath the waves. The Aelorians live beneath the water, their cities carved into the coral and stone of the ocean’s floor. Their power is the sea itself, and they command the waves with their mastery of **Hydromancy**. The people of Aeloria worship the **Deep Monarch**, a mysterious ruler who is said to have the blood of ancient sea gods flowing through his veins.”

The elder’s voice grew deeper, as if mimicking the murky depths of the ocean. “In Aeloria, the people believe that the ocean is alive, a great being that watches over them and protects their cities from the dangers of the surface. There is a myth of the **Tide Bringer**, a powerful hero who once saved Aeloria from destruction by summoning a wave so large, it swallowed the entire fleet of their enemies. The people of Aeloria still tell stories of the Tide Bringer, and some say he will return one day when the empire is in great need.”

The elder paused, watching the children’s wide-eyed fascination.

“Now,” he said softly, “there is a land where even I would not wish to go. It is a place of shadows and whispers, where the sun rarely shines and the air is thick with mist. This is **Thalios**, the land of the ancient spirits. The people of Thalios do not worship gods or rulers—they revere the spirits of the forest, believing that the trees themselves hold the souls of their ancestors. Their ruler is not a king, but a being known as **Lady Aelara**, the **Spirit Keeper**, who is said to speak with the voices of the trees.”

The elder leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “In Thalios, there is a legend of the **Ghostwood**, a forest so ancient and powerful that even the spirits fear to enter it. It is said that those who wander into the Ghostwood never return, for the trees there are not like any others—they are alive, and they hunger for the souls of the living. The people of Thalios believe that one day, the Ghostwood will awaken and spread across the world, swallowing all who stand in its path.”

The children huddled together, their imaginations running wild with images of haunted forests and ancient spirits.

“But not all lands are so dark,” the elder said, his voice lifting once more. “There is a place to the far north, where the light of the sun never fades. This is **Selarion**, the land of the eternal sea. The people of Selarion live their lives in harmony with the ocean, sailing across the endless waters in great ships made of shimmering crystal. They believe that the sea is the source of all life, and they worship the **Sunlit Tide**, a god of light and water who they say keeps the world in balance.”

The elder smiled softly as he continued. “In Selarion, the ruler is a queen known as **Aralyn the Luminous**, a woman of great beauty and wisdom. It is said that she was born from the sea itself, and that her heart is made of pure water. The people believe that as long as Queen Aralyn rules, the seas will remain calm, and the light of the sun will never fade.”

The elder’s voice grew quieter as he spoke of Selarion. “But there is a myth, whispered only in the darkest corners of the land, that one day the **Stormbringer** will rise—a being of pure chaos, who will shatter the peace of Selarion and bring an end to the eternal sea. It is said that the Stormbringer will come from the depths of the ocean, riding on a wave of destruction that will drown the world.”

The children sat in stunned silence, their minds racing with thoughts of the lands the elder had described.

“And that, little ones, is the world of Eryndor,” the elder said, his voice soft and full of wonder. “Each land is different, each holds its own power, its own rulers, and its own myths. And somewhere, in the midst of all these lands, Zaros Valen walks—seeking his own place in the world, and perhaps, one day, his path to the stars.”

The fire crackled softly, and the elder’s words hung in the air, filling the children with dreams of far-off lands and forgotten legends.