rules.

about.

lore.

A Sanctum of Roses; the gardens of reticence, hidden away within the Dravanian Hinterlands.The legacy of Rhea and Dorian; once deeply in love. A Sharlayan scholar and an Ishgardian runaway. Their fated meeting, their fated love, and their fated child. All was written in the stars— for weal or for woe.The bonds that existed between them brought Rhea to bear a child, befitting of the roses of their little warren. Ambrose.The tender beginnings of their little viera’s life was but a dream. While their mother had always proved distant, studying them as if they were more a test subject than their actual child… Their father was different. Memories of happiness were what they made together; memories bereft of the misery that would soon ruin their hideaway.Even in the beginning, Ambrose recalled things he never should have. Visions of the children that should have been, and the child that was. His mother, whom had studied the occurrence as her child grew, referred to it as the “Echo.” She told her only child that he was blessed. That he was all that she hoped for.Perhaps Ambrose believed her mother, for even the most fleeting of moments— until Dorian grew ill. An undocumented illness; maybe even something as far-fetched as a curse.The little viera could not have been more than nine at the time, but it was their father’s illness that brought their halcyon days of youth to an end. Ever studious, even his mother could not find the cure. Some days, Ambrose wondered— did she know? Did she plan for this, as it seemed she always did?Near the end of their woe, Rhea left for the Sharlayan motherland. Leaving her husband and child behind— she claimed to seek a cure. Ambrose recalled well the glimpses of her memories as she held her child, claiming that she would return one day.What she saw behind Rhea’s eyes told her more than enough. That her mother would never return.Rhea would never return, and Ambrose would have to watch their father die. Slowly, but with certainty.Left to care for a dying man in solace, Ambrose matured, day by day. A studious sort, much like his mother— he never liked being compared to Rhea. He felt as if it was wrong; that, if they knew what he saw through her, they would never insult him like that.Ambrose was only nineteen by the time his father died. Dorian died in his sleep— peacefully, all his child could have ever wanted. In those long, miserable years, his son had hardly left his side.But now that he was gone, returned to the Aetherial Sea…
What was she to do?Rhea left no way to contact her— and she, simply, did not want to. While her true whereabouts were unknown, Ambrose had long since brought his childhood into question. Whether she abandoned them for a better life— whether she truly loved them…The viera did not understand, nor did they know the answer.With no family left in that decayed sanctum, the upstart mage left it all behind— setting out to find his mother, to abandon the Sanctum of Roses; the grave of his parents’ wayward affections.He would not become his mother— even if it meant abandoning Dorian, too. He understood, did he not? That his child could not stay in a world long since lost…And so, with dreams of fallen stars, a name would be written in them henceforth. A journey that truly began in Gridania, in the meager Conjurer’s Guild—

hooks.

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