Wrethania

Wrethania - Far before alliances were forged or legends inked into song, the griffins knew only one homeland: Wrethania. Nestled beneath towering canopy and veined by the silver artery of a wide river, this land was the cradle of griffin-kind. Vast trees stretched skyward like claws reaching for the sun, their roots anchoring ancient nests that pulsed with generations of winged life. The air shimmered with feathers, wind, and pride—this was paradise, unmarred and sacred. But peace is never permanent. Among the proud firstborn of Wrethania was a griffin whose name has been devoured by time—whispered only as "the Broken Feather." Her crime was not a simple violation of law but an act so vile it fractured the harmony of the flock. Some say it was betrayal, others a forbidden magic unearthed beneath the riverbed. Whatever the truth, her exile was swift and unmerciful. Cast out from the emerald shadows, she vanished into the unknown with a final, haunting vow: to make the griffins pay for her banishment. At first, it was subtle—missing fledglings, shredded nests near the river, a silence that settled over once-thriving groves. Then came the whispers of shadowy wings in places too dark for flight, of claw marks where no creature dared tread. Paranoia grew like a rot. Some griffins claimed to see the Broken Feather perched in distant treetops, watching, waiting. Others spoke of her gathering strange allies from the edge of the world—things with too many eyes and no true form. Ultimately, the great griffin elders convened beneath the moonstone arch of Wrethania’s oldest tree. The decision, though painful, was unanimous: Wrethania could no longer shield them. And so, with talons clenched and hearts heavy, the griffins took wing, abandoning their ancestral home to legend and loss. They would eventually soar into the worlds of dragons and elves, carving a new future from shared myth and union. But Wrethania? It remains untouched, avoided even in flight—half forest, half ghost story. And somewhere deep in the hollowed silence, the Broken Feather is said to wait.