In the realm where twilight lingers, beyond the horizon tipped with silver, lies the forgotten vale of Pyrathis. A haven of crystalline rivers and whispering willows, it is said that the stars weep their luminous tears into its depths, forging constellations anew in the mirrored silence.

Beneath the canopy of the eternal dusk, the hills of Virethia roll like the backs of slumbering leviathans. Here, the land is stitched together by the ancient pathways trodden by nomads of old, their stories woven into the roots of the great obsidian trees that guard the secrets of time.