Somewhere over the rough ocean waves, across the burned and blackened landscape of Atrata. Through the peachy pink and orange forests of the hinterlands. At the foot of the Farcaster peaks sits a small farmstead on a spring evening.
Inside the farmstead a human famer by the name of Morgan is putting his children Sindy and Aaron to bed
“Come one pa just one story before bed” whine the children
“Fine just one… Have you ever heard how Cynric the Brave found his courage?”
Long before Cynric the Brave became one of The Four, he was a frightened young man in the dark times, when the sky burned red, oceans ran black, and demons ruled the world.
Cynric huddled in a hidden cave with survivors - escapees from the slave pits where Orcus’s demons worked people to death. They lived like rats, scavenging scraps, hiding from patrols sweeping the ash-covered wasteland.
Cynric carried his father’s wooden staff - carved from the last living tree before demons burned everything. His father said it was special, but Cynric never understood why. It looked ordinary, scarred and blackened by falling ash.
He had the gift of fire magic, but magic meant death - demons could smell it. So he buried his flames deep inside, never letting a spark touch the staff, watching his people grow thin and weak in their cold, dark cave.
One night, shadow wolves found them. Orcus’s hunting hounds - creatures of pure darkness that could slip through stone and smell fear itself. They poured into the cave like liquid night.
In that moment, Cynric finally understood his father’s teaching: fire wasn’t just destruction - it was hope. Light in darkness. Protection for the innocent.
He stepped forward, gripping the staff. “Get behind me,” he whispered, and for the first time since demons took the world, let his inner flame burn true.
When fire touched the staff, blackened wood revealed hidden runes carved deep into its surface. The staff blazed with golden fire, and Cynric understood he was one of The Everflames - those who carried eternal fire of hope.
Protective flames filled the cave with light. Shadow wolves fled howling. From that night, Cynric no longer hid his gift. When Arrako the Pure gathered heroes against Orcus, Cynric answered with his blazing staff.
Morgan’s voice grew serious. “But children, remember - today many fear The Everflames. They see only fire’s power to burn, not protect. Some say they should be locked away, others whisper worse. If you meet someone with that gift, remember Cynric’s story. Fire in the right hands can save us all.”
He tucked them in. “The world’s grown comfortable, but comfortable people forget - sometimes you need flame to drive away darkness.”
“Now sleep. No more stories tonight.”