In the time before kingdoms rose and fell, when the world of Ever-Realm was still young, there were five daggers forged in secret by the Voidborn, ancient beings of untold power. Each dagger was a vessel for an aspect of magic, a primal force that shaped the very fabric of existence. The Daggers were not mere weapons but keys to the delicate balance that held the world together—gifts and curses, their power immeasurable, their legacy eternal.

The Dagger of Fire was the first to be created, born in the heart of a dying star. It burned with the fury of a thousand suns, its blade capable of incinerating anything in its path. Known as the Dagger of Destruction, it was said to contain the essence of chaos and war. Those who wielded it could summon storms of flame and command legions, but the power of fire demanded a price. The bearer often succumbed to the madness of battle, consumed by rage until they, too, were reduced to ash.

Next came the Dagger of Water, crafted from the depths of the endless seas. It shimmered with a light both calming and treacherous, a symbol of healing and rebirth, yet also the power to drown and erase. The Dagger of Restoration, as it was called, granted its bearer the ability to mend the broken and manipulate time's flow. But water is a force of duality—both life-giving and destructive. Those who sought its healing touch risked losing themselves in its depths, their memories washed away like footprints on the shore.

The Dagger of Earth followed, forged deep within the mountains, its blade unbreakable, its hilt rooted in the land itself. The Dagger of Fortification symbolized strength, protection, and endurance. Its wielders could command the earth, raise mountains, or carve out fortresses that would stand for eons. But the earth is unyielding, and so too were its champions. They became immovable, bound to the land they sought to protect, unable to adapt or change, their hearts hardened by the weight of stone.

The Dagger of Air was the most elusive, fashioned from the very winds that raced across the sky. It was known as the Dagger of Deception, its edge invisible, its power tied to illusion and trickery. Those who carried it could move unseen, twist words, and weave illusions that ensnared the minds of even the wisest. But the winds are fickle, and so too was the magic of this dagger. It whispered falsehoods to its bearer, drawing them into a web of lies until they could no longer distinguish reality from illusion.

Last was the Fifth Dagger, the most dangerous of all. The Dagger of Void, a weapon forged from nothingness, an embodiment of entropy and the end of all things. It whispered promises of ultimate power to those who dared to hold it, tempting them to unravel the very fabric of reality. Its true name was lost to time, for none who wielded it had ever survived to tell the tale. Known only as the Dagger of Entropy, it carried the weight of the Void itself, threatening to undo the world if it ever fell into the wrong hands.

The Daggers, scattered across the Ever-Realm, passed through the hands of kings, warlocks, and forgotten heroes. But the Fifth Dagger had always remained hidden—waiting, biding its time—until the day it would choose its final bearer.