Chapter Text
A thousand years ago, the world trembled.
The dark lord Erawan, last of the Valg kings, rose to conquer Erilea with horrors born from shadow and ruin. Kingdoms fell. Forests burned. Drums pounded. The skies wept ash. But in the final hour, hope was forged.
Elena Galathynius, the Fae princess, daughter of King Brannon and Mala Fire-Bringer, and her companion Gavin Havilliard stood against the darkness. Elena wielded a lock, forged by Mala herself at the cost of love and life, as a weapon against Erawan’s dark power. She used it not to destroy, but to entomb: to bury Erawan so deep within the earth that he would never rise again.
Elena and Gavin went on to marry and become the first King and Queen of Adarlan, a territory gifted to them by King Brannon in thanks for their bravery, resourcefulness and sacrifice in facing and defeating Erawan.
And in the years that followed, peace bloomed.
Now, the kingdoms of Erilea thrive beneath a long, golden age of relative calm. Terrasen, once ruled by Brannon, stands strong under the rule of King Rhoe Galathynius and Queen Consort Evalin Ashryver, guardians of a realm that stretches from the great Oakwald Forest to the snow-capped Staghorn Mountains.
Theirs is a powerful kingdom, looked to as a model by other nations. Humans, Fae, and demi-Fae walk the same stone streets, drink from the same wells, and serve beneath the same banners. Tensions still flicker beneath the surface—ancient grudges and old blood do not forget easily—but even a millennia after the great war, harmony is a fragile treasure, and the people of Terrasen cling to it.
The other kingdoms of Erilea watch Terrasen with wary eyes. Adarlan grows ambitious. Melisande keeps its borders sharp and its messengers sharper. Across the sea, Wendlyn, ruled by Queen Consort Evalin’s kin, hides its strength behind diplomatic ties with neighboring Doranelle. And in Doranelle, the Dark Queen of the Fae weaves her ever-expanding web of machinations.
Still, for the better part of a millennium, no great wars have been fought. No gods have stirred. No demons have risen.
But peace, like fire, needs tending. And beneath the calm earth, ancient power still simmers. Waiting.
Unseen by most, a new flame has kindled.
A young princess has been born to Terrasen—Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, descendant of god and legend, heir to fire and blood, and the old magic that sleeps in the bones of the land.
And fire... does not forget.