Eclipse of Fate; When the Bleeding Suns Weave the threads of divinity

My realm, where time twisted and faded like the ghosts of forgotten warriors. In ERAXUS, time is a spiral— a labyrinth—winding tighter and tighter until it collapses upon itself. Or so I think, as I wander through this place that seems to defy fate and destiny. Duk’ein— where villagers hide from the eclipse's eternal gaze but find no refuge from the creeping madness within—offers no solace. The Neophyte crafted “time bends under the Eraxian suns”, his words a guide through the madness. But even his vivid words cannot capture the disjointed nature of this land. My blind eyes see shadows where there should be light, and sometimes, I hear the echoes of souls in the wind that speak of things long past… or yet to come? 

Neophyte’s writings painted my existence in CYNDARIN—a place of eternal fire and ash. But when I think of it, all I sense is the relentless blaze of the twin suns, where the very ground bleeds. The Mirefen Bog, he said, was a place of horror. But when I try to picture it, all I see is darkness—creeping and cold—swallowing everything in its path.

The Orcs who dwell there are more like phantoms to me, their faces hidden in smoke and flame.

Yet one fights on, driven by a hope I cannot understand—a hope that feels as fragile as the world itself.

The Neophyte warned of the suns’ dance, but his words slip away from me like flakes of fire vanishing in the air.

 It’s a name that conjures images of shifting skies and swirling colors—but when I try to see it, the colors blur and melt together.
Magic here is wild, untamed, and it pulses through the air like a living thing.
Those who cannot control the magic are consumed by it. Or so the Neophyte said, echoing the words of a lost race devoured by their own creations.
Seekers are prevalent in this realm—but are they real, or merely another figment of my imagination?
The Neophyte spoke of ARCANTHIA in riddles, his words looping back on themselves until I can no longer tell where they begin or end.
I feel the magic touching my skin, like sand through my fingers. I dissolve into it—reaping my mind, plowing my consciousness. 

 There is a realm beyond the waking world, they tell me, a place where dreams and reality merge. My thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind every time I think of MARENORA. The Bedded Sea shifts in and out of focus, its waters dark and deep, hiding secrets I cannot even begin to fathom. A place where dreams and nightmares intertwine. A realm where I hear the echo of waves that never reach the shore, where shadows ripple like the surface of a forgotten sea. The Neophyte wrote of Marenora as if it were a place of endless possibility, but to me, it is a place of endless loss. I reach for it, but it slips through my fingers, leaving nothing but a sense of dread in its wake. 

    The realm of the dead… NETHRAXIS. Sometimes, I feel its pull, like a cold hand grasping at my soul. The Neophyte described it as a place of peace, but what I sense is far from tranquil. The tome itself is scarred with the mention of Nethraxis, as though the very ink recoiled from the darkness it describes. A realm where the dead do not rest, where shadows cling to the corners of my vision, and voices whisper from the abyss. The poison that seeps through Nethraxis taints everything it touches, turning light to shadow, and peace to despair. I try to push the visions away, but they cling to me, creep into me, dragging me down into the darkness.    
 

 And then, there is SORAEGNUM—the void behind the suns, left by the departure of the gods. Diverging from other realms, it is a place that should not exist, and yet, I cannot shake the feeling that it is the key to our misery, and to the emptiness I carry. A deathly armor awaits there, in the shadows, commanding chaotic forces within the Pained City of Sairojan. I’ve heard the name whispered in my dreams, where blood and pain intertwine. The Neophyte’s words of Soraegnum are fractured, as though he could not bring himself to write the truth—or perhaps, the truth was incomprehensible.