• Stars glittered around the shattered world. Twinkling off the surface of The Under and disappearing in the icy winds of Frostvain. A cool breeze blew through the grass that surrounded the ink black lake of Astara at the base of the Cliffside. Black smoke poured from the small factories of Everwood, a land encompassed by an ancient tree from a world lost to the ages. A cold desert hidden within the shadows of jagged mountain peaks that hid them from the rest of the world, inhabited by a dying race. Deeper, darker shadows hidden under a green canopy, the Temple in the heart of the forest was nothing more than a looming shadow over the surface of the water that surrounded its base. Strange lands that hung in the sky, once part of the same world but split by air and time. The world’s hollow center stood between them. Its dry rock wall circled a massive stone hive, tethered to the rock by monstrous chains. The other provinces sat around it like planets around a dead sun. Smaller fragments dotted the sky between the provinces like burned out stars. Each land, a piece of a world torn apart, a world lost to time. Home to different races, all once apart of a single race, now changed almost past the point of recognition, if anyone were left to remember it. Like their ancestors they were torn apart by war. Each race as unique as the last, each ruled over either land, sky, air, or worlds and elements never seen before. All were different and yet the same, like the glaring sun that brightened their sky and like the cracked moon the stole the light away.