Part of the seventh and ultimate generation of a precisely designed pedigree, Nortrom was bred by the ancient order of the Aeol Drias to be the supreme magic user the world had ever seen. He was the prophesy, the zenith of two-hundred years of vigilant pairings, a war-mage who would bring magnificence to the order, and annihilation to their sworn enemies, The Knights of the Fold. Raised with other juvenile mages in a secret quarters among the hills of the Hazhadal barrens, the order’s teachers waited for Nortrom’s abilities to manifest. While the other students sharpen up their talents with fire, or ice, or incantatory spells, Nortrom sat quiet and talentless, powerless to cast so much as a hex. As the day of final examination approached, he still had not initiated his magic. In abhorrence, this teachers berated him, while the children giggled. “You are no mage,” the head of the order declared. Still, Nortrom did not skulk away. He came into the day of testing.