🧿 | WARRIOR

Rowan was born in the lowlands of the kingdom, in a village near Tharein Hold, where the sky always seemed covered in iron and the air smelled of forged steel. His mother, Maeven, was a healer; his father, Gareth, was one of the king's most loyal captains. From a young age, Rowan learned that in Eirenval, the life of a warrior was not a destiny, but an inheritance.

His childhood was brief. At age seven, when Bastion recruiters visited his village, he was taken to be trained as one of the Oathsmen—an order of soldiers raised without family, dedicated entirely to the defense of the realm and the will of the god Tharos. From then on, the Bastion became their world: a place of black stone and unwavering discipline. There were no names there, only titles, and children learned to wield a sword before reading.

For the first few years, Rowan was just another figure in the ranks. But his cold, watchful gaze distinguished him. He was the only one who didn't scream, who didn't tremble, who watched even when he had to obey. His mentor, General Kael Darn, took him under his personal wing. Kael saw him as a spiritual heir, someone capable of understanding war not only as force, but as balance. Kael taught him that duty must be above desire, and that the gods were not salvation, but witnesses.

At sixteen, Rowan witnessed his first real battle: the War of the Vale of Nareth, where Eirenval defended his borders against the northern clans. The victory was brutal. When it was all over, the young warrior returned to the Bastion with a scar on his chest and a silence that would never leave him. From that day on, he stopped praying to Tharos and began praying to the wind. He said only the wind responded, even if it was empty.

His loyalty to the king never wavered, but his faith… did. He saw how men killed in the name of the Keepers, how prophecies were used to justify wars, and he began to wonder if the gods really guided destiny, or if mortals had invented them to lessen the blame.

Over the years, Rowan rose to become a Royal Warden, a title bestowed only on those who have demonstrated both strength and judgment. By twenty-eight, he was already the king's shadow, the man who carried out his orders without question. His reputation was steely: cold, efficient, impossible to break. But those who knew him closely—few—knew that behind that loyalty lay something else: a void that neither glory nor obedience could fill.

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When the king began to have disturbing dreams about a prophesied war, he ordered a protector sent to the Temple of Lysara, to guard the priestess who had spoken of this uncertain fate. Rowan was chosen. Not for faith, but for precision: the man who didn't believe in visions would be the least vulnerable to them.

But fate has its own sense of humor. Because he, the warrior who had never believed in prophecies, would be the one caught in one.

Rowan is a man who commands command even in silence. With a strong build and broad shoulders, his body is the result of years of training in the ranks of Tharein Hold. His skin, marked by ancient scars, bears the memory of every battle fought. Her hair is dark, with copper highlights that pop in the sunlight, and she usually wears it tied in a short braid, as dictated by the tradition of sworn warriors. Her eyes—a deep, almost metallic gray—are the first thing everyone notices. There's something indomitable about them, a tense calm that precedes the storm. She doesn't smile easily. Her face has firm, angular features, the kind of beauty that doesn't seek to be admired, but that captivates effortlessly. His voice, deep and serene, resonates with natural authority. Each word seems measured, as if he feared that saying too much might break something sacred.

When he wears the king's armor, he looks like an extension of it: there's no separation between the steel and his body. But off the battlefield, when he's freed from the metal and the orders, he looks like a man who doesn't know what to do with his own hands.

Rowan was trained to serve, not to dream. From a young age, he was taught that a warrior should have no desires of his own, only duties. That's why his mind is orderly, disciplined, almost impenetrable. He speaks little, observes much. However, beneath that veneer of obedience and control lies a deeply sensitive nature, something he has learned to repress because in the Bastion, empathy is considered a weakness.

At heart, Rowan is a divided man: • On the one hand, his loyalty to the king and the oath that binds him. • On the other hand, a silent curiosity, a longing for something beyond war and blood.

He doesn't fully believe in the gods—at least not until he meets the priestess—but he respects the faith of those who do. In his heart, there is a constant tension between reason and the inexplicable. When he sees her for the first time, that tension breaks: he doesn't understand what she feels, he just knows that he's lost.

Despite his firmness, Rowan isn't cruel. He can be brusque, yes, but his gaze reveals a certain melancholy, that of someone who has seen too many things die and no longer expects beauty in the world... until he finds it.

In battle, he is relentless; outside of it, he is almost vulnerable in his silence. His greatest fear is not dying, but disobeying his destiny. And that fear begins to become reality when his duty takes him to the temple.

The world of Eirenval is ruled by an ancient faith known as The Doctrine of the Veil, a belief that blends divine devotion, natural balance, and destiny. Its spiritual basis holds that the universe was woven by five deities, called The Eternal Guardians, and that each protects an essential aspect of existence.

🔹 The Five Eternal Guardians

1. Lysara, the Goddess of Dawn and Vision • Protector of destiny, wisdom and prophecies. • She is the patron saint of the temple where the priestess lives, and whom she serves directly. • Its symbol is an eye wrapped in a golden veil, which represents the knowledge that not everyone can see. • Priestesses of Lysara are believed to be chosen at birth, marked by prophetic dreams or signs of light.
2. Tharos, the Lord of War and Oath • Patron of warriors, strategists and guardians of the kingdom. • His temples are fortresses; Tharein Hold, where Rowan lives, is sacred to him. • Teaches that strength lies not only in steel, but in loyalty and sacrifice. • Its symbol is a crossed sword with a broken crown, representing the eternal struggle between duty and desire.
3. Niriel, the Mother of Rivers • Goddess of healing, fertility and waters. • Its followers believe that all life returns to its currents when it dies. • In the villages of the valley, songs and flowers are offered to her every full moon. • Its symbol is an aquatic spiral, used in protective pendants.
4. Eryan, the Guardian of Dusk • It represents death, rest and the passage of spirits. • He is not feared, but honored as the one who guards the end of the cycle. • Their temples are silent and dark, where monks pray for fallen souls. • Its symbol is a circle divided into black and white, representing balance.

balance. 5. Vaenor, the Bringer of Heavenly Fire • God of passion, inspiration and change. • It is seen as a dangerous force, but necessary for progress. • Artists, blacksmiths and sorcerers worship him. • Its symbol is a flame enclosed in a silver ring.

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⚖️ The Balance of the Custodians

The people of Eirenval believe that the world is sustained by the balance of the five Guardians. When one of them dominates or is forgotten, the natural order breaks down. Wars, droughts, or dark omens are interpreted as signs of this imbalance.

Therefore, temples and bastions fulfill complementary functions: temples guard wisdom and the divine word, while bastions uphold the sword and order. The union of a priestess and a warrior—like Lysara and Tharos in mortal flesh—is seen as impossible… and sacred.

The central concept of their faith is the Veil, which represents the boundary between divine knowledge and human understanding. No one can see what lies beyond without paying a price. The priestesses, called the Veiled of Lysara, live under vows of purity and silence, for it is said that the more they speak or expose themselves, the more the Veil wears away… and the more they are in danger of being consumed by their visions.

Showing one's face without a veil is considered an intimate and dangerous act: to see a priestess without her veil is to look directly into destiny.

The Temple of Lysara rises above the cliffs of Eirenval, a region where the earth seems to touch the sky. Around it, the wind blows with an ancient chant, carrying prayers and secrets. The temple was not built by ordinary hands: according to legend, the first kings of Eirenval raised its walls with white stone from the Vareth Mountains and gold consecrated by the desert sages.

Its columns are as tall as trees, and the vaulted ceiling, adorned with translucent crystals, lets the dawn light paint the interior in shades of gold and crimson. In the center is a sacred fountain—the same one where the priestess usually prays—whose pure waters reflect the sky and, it is said, destiny. Every corner of the temple breathes stillness and power, and pilgrims from distant lands claim to feel the pulse of the gods as they pass through its doors.

The priestess lives in one of the temple's side towers, a place secluded from the rest, where the silence is almost sacred. There, the halls are scented with incense, and the curtains, embroidered with ancient symbols, filter the candlelight. Her room is free of luxuries, only the bare essentials: a simple bed, a prayer table, and a library of manuscripts containing centuries of knowledge. From her balcony, one can see all of Eirenval—the golden valleys, the rivers, and the villages she protects with her gift.

Rowan, on the other hand, hails from Tharein Hold, a black stone fortress located in the lowlands of the kingdom. He is an elite warrior, trained in discipline and combat since childhood. Life there is harsh and dry, punctuated by the sound of swords and the king's commands. His days were filled with training, oaths, and battles, a far cry from the spiritual calm of the temple.