The land beyond the monoliths wasn't merely desolate; it was wounded, as though Arborea itself had gashed its own flesh and left it bleeding ash. The Island of Dawn gave way to the Ashen Fields, a vast expanse where the earth appeared bleached of life. Beneath the Wanderer's boots, brittle tufts of grey grass crunched like old bones, each step a reminder of what once thrived here. Around them, petrified trees clawed at the bruised sky, their branches frozen mid-scream, as though time had stilled in the throes of agony. The air was unnervingly still, carrying only the faint, acrid scent of ozone and decay. Above, light was no longer the product of a living sun, but a diffuse, melancholic glow that offered neither warmth nor comfort.

Author: Valky Fischer • Narrator: VREXIRA • Producer: Våldsam Zane

Silence wasn’t merely the absence of sound in the Grey Steppes; it was a tangible force. A thick, suffocating blanket pressing down on the cracked, ochre earth. No bird song pierced this void; no wind stirred. The air tasted of dust and forgotten time, as though the world itself exhaled only stagnant, ancient breath. Above, a bruised sky, perpetually twilight, offered no solace—only a cold reminder that the world here had once known greater light. And across this wasteland, only the monoliths broke the desolation.

Author: Valky Fischer

Narrator: VREXIRA

Producer: Våldsam Zane

Once, the Eternal Vale pulsed with the unified breath of creation. Sky, stone, root, and spirit danced in perfect resonance - a living symphony conducted by the unseen Weave. In those golden ages, magic was not wielded; it simply was, a natural melody woven into every living thing. The realm of Arborea itself, dreamed into being by the slumbering titans Arun and Shara, resonated with endless possibility. But harmony is fragile. Ages ago, a cataclysmic schism rent the Weave. A tearing across the hidden chords that held the world in balance. The great Celestial Chorus fractured into shards of dissonance. What once thrived as living song began to unravel in silence. The Vale didn’t die in a heartbeat, not at once - but its vibrant hues bled into desolate greys, its potent magic dwindled to the faintest echoes lodged in ancient stones and whispering winds.

Author: Valky Fischer • Narrator: VREXIRA • Producer: Våldsam Zane