Ah, but let us pause here, dear reader, and speak of things older than memory. Of truths carved into the bones of the world before men learned to write them down.
The magical beasts had always existed.
'Anakai' as they were once called, meant born of magic.
Long before kingdoms rose from ash and ice, before crowns were forged and borders drawn, the beasts roamed freely, creatures born of raw elemental magic, wild and untamed, beautiful and terrible in equal measure. The ones that roamed the fire realm were,
The Rakhai, fire foxes whose fur flickered like embers in motion, their tails splitting as they aged until the oldest among them bore seven, each one a streak of living flame.
They were mischievous but wise, spirit guides for travelers of the flame, vanishing into smoke when threatened, leaving only the scent of burnt cedar. The ancients called them the Keepers of the Path, for they led the lost home and punished the wicked with fire.
