In those days, before the shattering of the kingdoms in the Nether Age, there was a fair kingdom known as Ilystra, its high buildings set on shining hills. Here dwelt noble moon-elves, and in this age, theirs was a mighty kingdom, full of magical wonders as the elven folk are wont. Silver haired, tall and mighty, with piercing eyes of gray or blue, these winged folk of the moon, in this place, had reached their height in prowess. This magnificent nation flourished for many years, assessing affluence and growing ever more glorious.
As all fell spirits of Valk Hahwra’s brood, Tirnmaeth harbored in her heart a deep hatred for all kin of Faerie, and even as her castoff master she did envy the power and beauty in the hands of the moon-elves across that mighty gorge.