Ash Wildroot

Some legends begin with prophecy.
Aeron’s began with fire.

On the night the Red Comet tore across the heavens and the Obsidian Mountain cracked open, a single child was born in the ashfields of Emberfall. As the ground trembled and the sky bled crimson, the world changed forever. Dragons were no longer myth. Ancient forces long buried beneath stone and magma stirred once more.

And Aeron drew his first breath.

Born to a simple family on a remote farmstead, Aeron did not enter the world with a crown, a title, or a destiny spoken aloud. What he inherited instead was loss. His father died beneath falling obsidian before he could even hold his son. His mother fled through fire and ash with a newborn pressed to her chest, hunted not by monsters, but by fear disguised as faith.

From his first moments, the world responded to him.

Fire bent.
Heat lingered where it should not.
The mountain listened.

Yet Aeron is not a conqueror. Not a chosen hero crowned by prophecy. He is a child born at the wrong moment in history, carrying within him something ancient, something unfinished, something the world itself does not yet understand.

Fire Without Flame

Aeron’s power does not announce itself in roaring infernos or blinding destruction. It is subtle. Dangerous. Alive.

His warmth is constant, like a hidden hearth. His presence stirs the air. Embers answer his breath. Fire recognizes him not as a weapon, but as kin.

Those who sense it fear him.

The Flamecallers call him an omen.
The faithful whisper of curses and blessings in the same breath.
And far beneath the Obsidian Mountain, something older than memory remembers the sound of his heartbeat.

But Aeron himself knows none of this.

He knows only his mother’s arms, the long roads of exile, and the quiet instinct that the world is watching him even when no eyes are near.

A Legacy He Did Not Choose

Aeron’s story is not about power gained. It is about power endured.

He is born into a fractured world still scarred by the Sundering, a world where dragons shaped the land and death itself once walked beside them. The force awakening within him is tied to that ancient history, to a tragedy that predates kingdoms and gods alike.

Whether Aeron will become salvation or catastrophe is not yet written.

What is certain is this:

The world will not allow him to remain hidden forever.

As kingdoms tremble, cultists whisper, and the Ashen Crown stirs beneath molten stone, the child born under the burning sky grows quietly, carrying fire not as destruction, but as inheritance.

And when Aeron finally learns what he is, the world will be forced to remember what it tried so desperately to forget.