In the shadow of the eternal eclipse, we found Aetherwilde, where wind speaks in tongues of ancient sorrows. The trees writhe with memories of the unmade, and rivers flow with the echoes of forgotten voices. Here, a map is not a guide, but a warning.
Beneath the crust of light and known realms lies Umbrosden, a labyrinth of endless night. Light refuses to enter, and sound wars with silence. Maps sketched here are veiled in darkness, each line a tether to wanderers lost beyond sight.
Upon the shores where the sun drowns in crimson tides, lay the sands of withered dawn. The air sings with the cries of the last sunrises, and the ground trembles with whispers of the warm light's return. A cautious step may summon echoes of past illuminations.