The Kegare shattered the Firstborn into four bloodlines. Each carries a unique curse — and a unique strength.
Demon
Rage given flesh. Bound to the inferno that burns eternal in their chests. Prisoners of flame, slaves to passion — they remember the heat of ambition and are punished by it forever.
Elf
Stretched thin across centuries, graceful and fading. They do not die — they merely diminish. Each century erases a little more of who they were. Eternity is the cruelest curse.
Dwarf
Stone-strong. Unyielding. They carved kingdoms into mountains, believing enough rock could silence the echo of the Kegare. But even the unbreakable break — and when a Dwarf shatters, the mountain trembles.
Human
Brief, burning bright. Candles in a hurricane. They break fastest, love hardest, grieve deepest. They carry the memory of what was lost more clearly than any other race.
The prophecy speaks of a time when the divided shall walk together once more — not as the pure Firstborn, but as something new. Something scarred. The Kegari — the impure ones who refused to stay broken.