All stories begin with conflict, for people will longest remember the tales of when blood spilled to fill the seas. In these stories lay the lives and deaths of heroes. A man who threw down the gates of hell. A commander whose banner never faltered. A mighty sorceress that split the sky and drew forth the sun to do her bidding. Bards sing these tales in bar and on corner, and every so often they tell the tale of what glorious fate awaited the hero. All stories begin with conflict, and they all end in death.
Nine hundred years ago the world was wracked by a tremendous conflict that ended only by the countless sacrifices of mortals and immortals alike. A final alliance of all the free people marched to their seeming doom against insurmountable odds. Heroes were born, and stories were ended. When all hope was lost, a final option was employed that sundered the very world. The earth trembled as if its very core would burst forth and take flight, but in all the chaos hope was born. The greatest magi of all time had placed around the world barriers that channeled the very essence of the planet for power. The world was not whole, but it still lived.
Though the land was fractured, the story was over, and thus life returned to some semblance of normal. Only the longest lived of the mortal races even have histories that that stretch back to the time of the Sundering. The world is as it always was to the younger races, and in the distance, the barriers shimmer in the night sky.
Day breaks on what humans call the Cerulean Lands, and a new story begins.