Legends say that once upon a time, at the foot of a mountain in the Northlands, there was a village called Brightvale, because of its verdant territory and favorable climate. The people of the village were united, kind, welcoming, and loved life above all else – in fact, they were healthy and very long-lived.
However, this longevity made every bereavement excruciating: the villagers would cry and try to comfort each other as the faint light of the Funerary Lantern guided the procession. Both the living and the dead only wished to be able to remain with their loved ones forever, and this is how some souls managed to find a way back, guided by the Lantern itself. The people thought it was a miracle, unaware of the looming danger: in order to remain among the living against the natural order of things, those spirits were consuming the life of their loved ones.
As more and more people died, just as many spirits joined the village. And year after year, those souls gradually forgot who they were, until they became faint presences, attracted like moths to the light of the Lantern. In the end, they turned into pale flames thirsting for life.
Eventually, the spirits overtook the village, and Brightvale itself – now the epicentre of this warping of the natural order – was reborn as a terrible serpentine monstrosity that withers everything it touches, constantly chasing the Lantern that the naive villagers put all their faith into.