In the northern sprawl of Sanguine Vale, where whispers of lost spirits weave through the crags, the meridian bends. Here, the stars bleed crimson, charted by hands long turned to dust. The maps, they say, lead to Nevermore—an isle that shuns the dawn.
Venture eastward, across the desolate Umbra Fields, and you shall find the obelisk that marks the edge of known realms. It stands sentinel, cold and indifferent, marking the boundary of Evermist, where the fog weeps eternal.
South lies the forsaken city of Gloomhaven, its towers remnants of a forgotten epoch, shadowed by the pallor of incessant dusk. Most flee its creeping embrace, but those who remain whisper to the slumbering stars, seeking the lost constellations of their ancestors.