The Elven Kingdom of Estel

“From ruin, a haven. From blood, a future.”
Founded in 512 AE, just over a decade after the obliteration of Ravenna, Estel rose like a dream from the ashes of a broken empire. Where once the Empire of Sol reigned supreme with fire and steel, there now stands a city of beauty, grace, and serenity, built by elven hands under the guidance of a single, forgotten legend.
Estel—meaning "hope" in Old Elvish—is no ordinary kingdom. It is a sanctuary, born not only from ruin, but from a vision.
A Sanctuary Forged in Secrecy Its founder is none other than Angol, the once-vanished king of Seluria—now returned as a false god, wielding forbidden power in service of a single goal: to create a true haven for those who have suffered, where no Empire, god, or mortal prejudice can touch them again.
He built Estel with his own hands, stone by stone, spell by spell, drawing survivors, wanderers, and those disillusioned with the outside world. It was a quiet project, hidden by illusion and natural wards. As the world looked elsewhere—toward conflict, war, and collapse—Estel grew, and Angol shaped it into a paradise.
Today, it stands as a gleaming symbol of peace in a world falling apart.
Or so it seems.
The Lie Beneath the Light Estel appears flawless. There is no hunger, no crime, no strife. Its streets are paved with obsidian, its towers crowned in lightwoven glass, and music drifts through its markets like wind through leaves. Elves walk here without fear. Its citizens breathe in perfect unity.
But peace, in Estel, is not freely given. It is carefully shaped.
Every soul who enters Estel every body who seeks refuggee is unknowingly bound by a blood oath to Angol. The city's wards, crafted through ancient blood magic, seal the pact silently. If a traveler resists, they forget they ever did, the same if they accept his deal, as well, their loyalty is subtly reinforced memories softened, doubts muted, edges dulled.
There are no prisons in Estel. No executions, no guards, no army.
Angol and Finador: The Architects of Memory Though his name is known only to a few, Angol watches over Estel like a father over a garden—tending it, protecting it, guiding it toward perfection. In his eyes, this manipulation is mercy. He remembers what the world did to ones like him, and he will not let it happen again.
At his side is Finador, his apprentice and something akin to a daughter. Angol teaches her the art of blood magic not to dominate, but to sustain. She believes in his vision, and like him, will do whatever is necessary to keep Estel safe… even from itself.
Estel Today Hidden among the wild overgrowth reclaiming the old Imperial roads, Estel now thrives in the shell of fallen Ravenna’s domain. Many who join do so willingly, never questioning how their fears faded so quickly, or why the past feels… lighter. To them, Estel is perfect.
But some whisper. Some dream strange dreams. Some begin to remember things that were never spoken aloud.