Senna's Guide to How Things Are

You're probably wondering how I got here. I'm still wondering how I got here, working menial jobs for food, travelling back roads, narrow trails. I used to be the daughter of a well-off merchant, until... But I'm getting ahead of myself.   When I was younger, I noticed everything seemed to be divided into two groups, Before, and After. We don't know much about the before times, what it was really like, what countries there were all across Azarth. We call it the Age of Magic, when casters could wield as much power as they liked, with no apparent consequences. Anything was possible: plays that were so many illusions, large as life, and as real-looking; carriages that flew through the sky, crossing oceans, visiting other lands. I have no idea how much of this is just fantasies that we tell ourselves about Before, but that's what they say.   But nothing is without consequences, and the power those casters used somehow began to warp the world. Finally, the world could sustain no more. Azarth was torn apart by incredible forces, reshaping the world entirely, driving many to the brink of extinction. This was The Shattering. Even now, almost years later, we are still defined by that catastrophe. And magic? It was fractured too, painful to use if you pull too much of it, and uneven in its power.   Humanity clawed its way back, as it always seems to. Some knowledge survived, so we didn't have to start over, but life is still difficult. One group of survivors founded the kingdom we are in now, Polira. We don't have much contact with other countries, two sharp mountain ranges and a desert will do that.   Polira, as a whole, does not like casters. Actually, that's putting it mildly. Our dominant religion says that humankind's sin was touching magic in the first place, and all must atone for it. I've seen casters beaten and stoned in the streets when they were discovered. The kingdom, however, makes use of them. By decree, all casters are property of the crown, which is a nice way of saying 'slaves'. They are kept well, I hear, but they are slaves and prisoners nonetheless.   So you can understand why I didn't take well to finding out I could cast. I ran away before anyone could find out, traveling north, working my way as a scullery maid in tavern after tavern, until I hit Wintersee, and could go no farther. I did meet someone, though, a rogue caster named Baltan. He wasn't a member of the Unbound underground, or anything, just a wanderer like me. He offered to teach me how to control my ability, so I wouldn't give myself away.   I bought it. I was desperate. I believed him when he said there was a ritual to make me an apprentice. Apparently, he just needed a magic-talented body. From what we can piece together, he was trying to bring forth the soul of an Age of Magic caster into my body. I was not supposed to survive the process. Obviously, he botched it, died, and set up a flare for any caster hunter in the vicinity. So now I'm on the run. And I'm not the only one in my body...