Kuldra’s tale is tragic really. An innocent child, raised by monsters: tormented, tortured, and forced to create legions of children who were all taken from her and then either weaponised or dissected for future study.
She found comfort in the gentle warmth of a lover’s embrace, only to see him taken from her by those same cruel parents.
Only one dragonkin ever showed her warmth, but their mind was distracted by a thousand different timestreams and they could never give Kuldra the love that she deserved. A lack of love is like a poison: it seeps into one’s soul and infects it with malice. You find yourself unable to believe that love could be real, and from it all the other positive emotions, such as charity, kindness, or hope.
Kuldra wasn’t born a monster, but she chose to become one and she was determined to be the worst monster she could be.
For centuries she has gorged herself on the anima of Ashenfall, building her own power so that she might turn the region’s Wellspring into a weapon that would decimate the rest of the world. Why? Because the rest of the world is happy, and she needs to see that stopped.
Now, she is dead - although her legacy will scar the world for generations to come. Hate breeds only hate, and Kuldra has had plenty of children.