Spark River is a natural border between two kingdoms now at war. In summer, due to the fresh air, redolence of coniferous forest, and the swift sound of the river, people flock to its shores alone and in company. Eventually summer's wrath fades. Soon the flowers wilt and the leaves fall, dead. Winter asserts its rule with ferocious snowstorms. Frost binds the river with sturdy ice; this place becomes an ideal crossing for the hostile armies.
The forest of Aira is endless, magnificent, and mysterious. Sunlight trickles through the saturated tree crownes and creates an inexpressible beauty out of the battle between light and shadow. Myriads of birds sing in unison, taking the human consciousness far away from this world. Like the sirens’ song, this intoxicating aura often bodes ill. It is easy to lose one’s place among the shifting trees and whispering leaves. Travelers should keep their swords close, lest they fall victim to the untold beasts that are rumored to roam the fairy forest.
Long before these ruins were abandoned to the mercy of time and nature, they were the foundations of a great city bordering two states. The symbol of pride for one and envy for the other, controlling the city became the spark that started the bloody war that rages to this day. These ruins stand as a reminder to both peoples that even the invincible, the pious, the confident, and the unique are subject to death and destruction. As time flows, and generations pass, people inevitably forget these cruel lessons, despite the lasting impacts before their eyes. Now these ruins of a once great city serve the sole purpose of harboring battles. For it is only among the dead and dying, pooling in blood on the stone foundations, and creeping in the shadows among charred walls, that the forgotten past is remembered.