Many eons ago, a race known as the Children of the Sun rose to prominence, their lives intertwined with the belief that death united them with the sun—a symbol of both divinity and finality. Their Phoenix King, revered as "the Sun Incarnate," acted as a conduit for the Sun’s divine essence, channeling its power through sacred rituals and a crystalline artifact called the Solar Heart. This relic amplified their lifeforce, granting them lives vastly longer than any other creatures on the planet, a blessing born from their mastery of light and goodness. In the barren Eldara Desert, they wove a miracle, turning desolate sands into a thriving paradise where water burst forth from the ground and dunes transformed into fertile soil rich with vital nutrients. Their deep understanding of magic and science defied the natural order, breathing life into what was once death, and their culture radiated "the love for everyone," earning them the title "the chosen ones."
The Children of the Sun were a beacon of prosperity, their generosity rippling across the world like sunlight on water. From their verdant oasis in Eldara, they shared knowledge, resources, and magic with neighboring realms, lifting entire nations from poverty and strife. Their golden cities gleamed with spires that mimicked the sun’s rays, and their festivals filled the air with songs of unity and dances beneath the blazing sky. Kings and sages traveled far to kneel before the Phoenix King, offering tribute not out of fear but reverence, for the Children’s servant hearts had turned enemies into allies and wilderness into abundance. Tales of their "fire in their eyes" and "passion that never dies" spread across continents, and they were worshipped as near-divine stewards of life, their long lives seen as proof of their sacred bond with the cosmos.
Then came the Puzzle Box of Zytharoth, a gift from a shadowy emissary of the Celestial Paragon’s cult, its ornate surface veiling a malevolent intent. Whispering promises of ultimate power, it preyed on the Phoenix King’s buried curiosity, and when he sought its secrets, the Box consumed the Solar Heart, merging it into its dark machinery. A fragment of Yltharis ’s hunger surged into him, spreading like a plague, while a sinister radiance inverted their solar magic into a destructive force. Now truly immortal, the Children turned on the world they once nurtured, their "fire in their eyes" blazing with rage. "Flying too close to the sun as if we’re invincible," they waged wars of annihilation, their corrupted light scorching cities to ash and their once-gentle hands "dominating the earth we’re living on." Nations that had revered them fell beneath their unstoppable might, and as they exterminated masses, they grew weaker, their vitality sapped by the very atrocities they committed.
In the wake of a vague but cataclysmic Great War, the Phoenix King was slain, and the Puzzle Box was torn from their grasp. Freed from its immediate influence, the Children awoke to the horror of their actions, their immortality now a curse binding them to an existence of guilt. Shame consumed them like a relentless tide, drowning the pride they once held as "the chosen ones." They wandered Eldara, "fighting and running from, turning from who we really are," their golden cities crumbling into sand as they mourned the lives they’d destroyed. "Knee-deep in tragical, fabrical issues everywhere," they could neither replace nor trace the benevolent beings they’d been, their legacy forever stained. After centuries of torment, haunted by ghostly mirages of their past glory, they combined their fractured light and dark magic to enter an eternal slumber beneath the desert, seeking peace in oblivion—a respite from the shame that gnawed at their immortal souls.
Their legacy endures as whispers on the wind, tales of spectral cities rising from Eldara ’s sands—lush oases and laughter fading into dust. Dismissed as fables by most, these mirages are true echoes of the Children’s lost paradise, glimpsed by wanderers who swear they’ve seen the past alive. The Puzzle Box, now lost to time, remains a key to their fate, its crystalline heart a dim flicker within its depths, a reminder of the light they sacrificed to darkness.
When the Puzzle Box of Zytharos landed in the Eldara Desert five years ago with chicken-Davis (see the quest: Manastorm Legal Advisors ), its presence jolted the Children of the Sun awake from their eons-long slumber. Having spent countless ages reflecting on their atrocities—enabled by the Solar Heart still fused into the Box, tethering their consciousness to its dark influence—they’ve emerged as a changed people. Their immense willpower lets them suppress the lingering corruption, but it’s left them as deadpan, emotionless shells of their former selves, stripped of the "fire in their eyes" and "love for everyone." They’re not malevolent anymore, just hollow, unable to forgive themselves yet determined to prevent further harm.;Their awakening triggered the resurgence of their ancient city—a sprawling, golden metropolis rising from the sands, hidden beneath the Chimeric Ether that blanketed Matella for those five years. Like a lost Atlantis, it only reactivated with their return, its mechanisms tied to their presence. Recognizing the Puzzle Box as the source of their downfall, they secured it deep within the vault of their greatest pyramid, protected by intricate puzzles, traps, and misdirection. Their goal is containment—they’ll never let it fall into the wrong hands again.;Now, in the present, with the Chimeric Ether gone and the timeline stabilized, the Children of the Sun guard their secret. When explorers or adventurers (like The Mistshadows or the players) come seeking the Box, they play a subtle game: offering faint, cryptic clues to seem helpful while ensuring no one gets close to the truth. If someone navigates their labyrinthine defenses, they’re led to a decoy treasure room—a false victory to appease the curious. The Children themselves are the final puzzle, their emotionless facades and concealed past a wall of silence. They have no desire to reveal who they were or what they’ve done, only to protect the world from their mistake.