Ashenhold Isle

Rising from the grey waters beyond the Hinterveil Strait, roughly 200 kilometers northwest of Elysoria’s rugged coast, lies Ashenhold Isle—a land shrouded in silence, ash, and dread. Spanning nearly 1000 kilometers across and stretching nearly as far from north to south, it is the largest islands in Endórëmar’s western reaches. Yet despite its size, few speak of it, and fewer still dare set foot on its shores.   The isle’s surface is a grim expanse of ashen plains, swept smooth by dry winds and broken only by scattered groves of dead, twisted trees—remnants of forests long since claimed by fire. In places, the ash is so fine and deep it clings like snow, muting sound and obscuring dangers beneath. Above it all looms the jagged spine of the Thunderhold Mountains, a volcanic chain that dominates the island’s central region, belching smoke and occasional fire into the iron-grey sky.   Though lifeless in appearance, Ashenhold is not uninhabited. Strange and often hostile creatures, shaped by centuries of magical and volcanic exposure, stalk the land. Beneath the surface, networks of old lava tunnels stretch deep into the earth. It is within these labyrinthine caverns that the most guarded secret of the isle resides: the Ciryathanor, or Jewel of Power.   Known only to a scattered few—primarily druids and remnants of ancient magical orders—Ashenhold is believed to be the only place in the mortal world where these legendary gemstones can still be found. But “accessible” is a generous term. The lava tunnels are deadly. Air becomes poison, heat unbearable, and the things that dwell within are said to be both ancient and hungry. Those who go seeking the Jewels of Power often vanish, their stories ending in ash and echo.   There are no towns on Ashenhold. No ports. No harvests. It is a land that resists civilization, rejecting all attempts to tame it. Its existence is an open wound upon the sea—a grim monument to the world’s more violent moods, and a reminder that not all riches were meant to be claimed.