Vildra and Vesna, The Twins of Wessar

The Twin Storms of Tharkellin

A Zycorian Legend of Omen, Ash, and Blood

Long before the present age, when the southern Ashúnian Archipelago gleamed with living crystal and arcane light, there stood a mighty Spellscale empire known as Wéssar. The Spellscales—draconic kin born of scale and sorcery—were native to these islands, and none before or since have mastered Zycore, the living mineral of the world, with such grace and restraint. From Zycore they forged wonders: cities that breathed, engines that sang, and arcane constructs that blurred the line between magic and artifice.

Despite their power, the Spellscales were a benevolent people. They sought communion over conquest, knowledge over dominion. Their High Draconic Court ruled not by fear, but by consensus, and the Quintessential Table was said to echo with the voices of many races—an ideal rare in any age.

It was during this height of peace that fate turned its gaze upon Wéssar.

From the noble House Trineskian were born twin daughters beneath a sky no one living would ever forget.

Their birth coincided with the Olios Celebration, a celestial convergence when Zycore’s four moons aligned—a phenomenon that occurred only once every twenty-five years. Across the world, war halted. Bloodshed ceased. Even monsters were said to sleep. The night sky ignited with vast auroral tides, and joy rippled across land and sea alike.

Yet that night bore a deeper omen.

As the auroras danced, two great storms of light refused to move with the others. One burned deep crimson, the other violet-hued, cold and regal. Before the eyes of the archipelago, these lights solidified, stretching and coiling until they became two colossal eastern dragons—darkellions, born not of flesh, but of incarnate omen.

The dragons clashed.

Their battle tore the sky open and birthed the Storm of Incarnum, a supernatural maelstrom of raw fate and soul-energy. Islands were reshaped. Cities were scarred. Entire bloodlines vanished in a single night. Though Wéssar endured, it would never again be whole.

And as the storm raged, the twins were born.

The first, Vildra Trineskian, arrived amid thunder and screaming winds. Minutes later came Vesna Trineskian, as the storm began to falter—calm following catastrophe.

From that night forward, the High Draconic Court whispered.

The twins were raised in Tharkellin, the crystal capital of Wéssar, but fear followed them like a shadow. Many believed the sisters were incarnations of the battling darkellions, or harbingers of the storm yet to come. Some claimed the incarnum had marked them; others that the twins had been claimed by opposing cosmic wills.

Even their father, once a proud councilor, recoiled from them. Only their mother stood firm, shielding them from condemnation and assassination alike. Though they were destined for the Council, many would have sooner seated an elf—or worse—than allow the Storm-Born to touch the Quintessential Table.

As they grew, the twins diverged.

Vildra, forged in rejection and rage, turned inward and hardened herself. She trained relentlessly in ancient Draconian martial disciplines, mastering blade, spear, and fang. Something in her blood—perhaps Zycore itself, perhaps the incarnum—answered her will. She became lethal with terrifying speed, her presence on the training grounds spoken of in hushed tones.

Vesna, by contrast, turned outward. She sought meaning where others saw curse. She studied divinity, natural philosophy, arcane science, omens, the occult, and forbidden cosmologies. She believed their birth was not punishment, but purpose. Together, the sisters remained inseparable, even devising a silent language only they could share—but the paths before them were no longer the same.

Decades of tension finally ignited into catastrophe.

Wéssar fractured in a civil war unlike any before it, as factions rose either to purge the Storm-Born or to seize them as symbols. Amid this chaos, the Myvan Dynasty arrived—outsiders steeped in necromancy, sangomancy, and infernal pacts. Seeing weakness, they struck in shadow, turning civil war into annihilation.

Vildra became a weapon.

She led brutal campaigns against Myvan and Wessarian alike, her fury indiscriminate, her legend growing darker by the year. Vesna vanished amid the fall of Tharkellin, fleeing north across shattered ice into the Everfrost Sea, believing only oblivion could silence the storm.

Vildra was eventually overrun and captured.

The Myvans did not kill her.

Through agonizing ritual, her Spellscale blood was fused with demonic ichor, warping her into an abomination of arcane and infernal design. She became something other, a living paradox—neither wholly damned nor free. As the War of Ashúnian’s Hope erupted, she was unleashed upon the battlefield, leading the Myvans to victory after victory, a crimson terror clad in scales and hellfire.

Vesna, meanwhile, collapsed upon the frozen wastes, her breath failing.

There, she heard a voice.

A being bound in ice and fury, ancient and betrayed, promised her truth—and the power to unmake those who had shattered her world. When she emerged from the tundra, she bore forbidden knowledge and eldritch boons, and she turned south to hunt the Myvans with cold, surgical vengeance.

When the war finally ended, the world believed the tale complete.

Vildra was said to have been slain by mercenaries of great renown. Vesna destroyed the last remnants of the Twin Fangs, the covert architects behind the war against the Pravalon Empire. Retreating to the southernmost isle, Vesna turned her gaze inward once more—toward the World Rift, convinced that its truth was the key to her destiny.

But legends rarely end so cleanly.

Vildra rose again.

Now serving the Twin Fangs once more, she walks a darker road—but something has changed. Memories stir. Doubt festers. The chains the Myvans forged are no longer invisible, and she has begun to question the will that binds her.

As for Vesna, she peers ever deeper into the rift between worlds, guided by a patron whose true designs remain unknown.

The fate of the Trineskian twins is yet unwritten.

But let this be known across Zycore:

Those who cross the Storm-Born shall remember the might of the Spellscales—and the cost of awakening the past.