Tanterra
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Many a century ago, when lifespans were longer and the bond between Magyc and Man had not yet been broken, there was a kingdom called Tanterra. Magyc ran freely through the streets of the kingdom, weaving into the lives of its Citizenas. Elements and Animals, not yet controlled or predicted by Man, chose worthy Citizenas to wield their power. The land was pure, the air clear, untainted by Tenebris, dark magyc. For centuries, the Draconem family ruled Tanterra in peace and harmony. Crown Pryncess Clarice Savanna Jeanine, Haer to the kingdom, had no reason to think that her rule would be any different. That was until betrayal ripped her family apart from within. Now hunted, Savanna is forced to watch as her people crumble under the pressure of greedy, disunited Rulers. It's more about avenging her family, about taking back her kingdom, it's about the honor of keeping a promise made millennia ago.
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The land was divided by an invisible boundary no soul dared to cross. To the north lay the rugged mountains of the Draconis Dominion, where blackened peaks reached toward storm-lit skies. It was a land of fire and stone, ruled by dragons-mighty warriors whose breath scorched the battlefield and whose talons could carve through the thickest armor. Their scales were deep shades of onyx, crimson, and midnight blue, their eyes sharp as blades. They lived by the law of strength, where the weak perished, and the strong thrived. To the south stretched the shimmering plains of Celestara, a land kissed by moonlight and veiled in silver mist. Here, wyverns reigned-beings of magic, whose songs could weave illusions and whose wings carried the whispers of forgotten spells. Unlike their dragon counterparts, wyverns had only two legs, their lithe forms gliding effortlessly between the stars. Their scales gleamed in hues of pearl, gold, and frost, as though they had been sculpted from the heavens themselves. Power among them was not measured in brute strength, but in wisdom, cunning, and the mastery of the arcane. A war had separated them centuries ago, a conflict so brutal that neither side spoke of it anymore-only that to set foot on the other's land was to invite death. No one remembered what had started it, only that the hatred had never faded. The sky itself seemed to split in two, an unseen force keeping dragons and wyverns from ever meeting. But history was written in lies, and time had buried the truth beneath layers of bitterness.
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