In the fold of the clock's winding arms lie the Floating Woods; trees assembled of whispers and gears. Here, the breeze carries tales spun by metal leaves. Each cycle around the celestial axis brings forth a new narrative etched in rust and rhythm.
The Arcane Dunes shift beneath their own illusions, mirages of distant echoes and forgotten melodies. Only the intrepid dreamers who speak the language of sand and shadow pass through these vast, silent deserts, guided by constellations known only to machines.
The Crimson Vale, a sanctuary of velvet echoes, harbors secrets deeper than its sunsets. It is said that the cries of the last clockwork griffons can only be heard at dusk when the sky melts into orchestral hues.
Ruins scattered across the Mechanical Teeth Peaks tell stories of an age when whispering mountains conversed with the stars, their conversations recorded in the fading hieroglyphs of time.