The rise of the Phoenix

The world is burning.

It is difficult to remember a time when corpses did not litter the ground, both benders and non-benders alike. Every city is a wreckage of ash and flame, the sky always tinged a shade of grey.

There is a myth, generations old - a prayer now, almost - whispered between shaking hands and fearful eyes in the heavy darkness of refugee bunkers. The story of the phoenix - when Kutrov was most desperately in need, a savior would come, decorated in gold, hands spread wide. They would summon the sun itself and hold its light in their blood. They would save them all.

And surely this is the time in which they are most at need, when the Inferni destroy homes and villages, burn entire families alive in their homes. Now, when the remaining few vanish underground - men, women, children - and train to fight, to kill even the slightest chance of a nagrevat'.

It has been 50 years since the legend of the phoenix was last told - it remains a faded page in a history book. They have been at war for a very, very long time.