Volradis was once a city of holy fragrance. In ancient days it was called Aurelion, set upon the peak of the Glory Clouds, shining like a beacon to all who sought the light.
But the wickedness of men hollowed its heart. The city fell- not by war or plague, but by the slow corruption of the soul. What was once glorious became dim. What was pure became polluted. Aurelion became Volradis, and the light that crowned it was swallowed by darkness.
Now, the city lies in the hands of scoffers and pretenders of righteousness. People struggle daily to survive, scraping for food, fighting for water, hoping for a tomorrow that rarely comes. Yet somehow the rich remain in power-untouched, unshaken, feeding on the misery below. Their feasts grow larger as the poor grow thinner.
Here, the rule is simple: strive to survive....or be forgotten
Elior? He was just another victim of this forsaken land- one more wandering soul in a city that had lost its light.
And far beyond, traveling from Quinvincy to Volradis, a cloaked figure moved with purpose. Dust rose in their wake as the wind whispered across empty plains. Volradis awaited- but it did not yet know who had returned, or what their coming would mean.