Realms Beyond Mortality

Caelum stood before the massive map, its ancient parchment stretched across the stone wall like the skin of a fallen beast. The edges were frayed, burned in some places, as though time itself had tried to erase the knowledge it held. The ink had faded over the centuries, but the lands, the divisions of power, were still clear.

Varian traced a gloved hand over the map, his fingers lingering on different territories as he spoke.

"This map," he said, "is not just a record of geography. It is a ledger of power, a history of conquest and ruin. Every land you see here has been shaped by war, by blood, by forces older than any of us."

Caelum's eyes followed the contours of the land. He had seen maps before, but none like this. None that carried this kind of weight.

"The world is divided into six known major territories," Varian continued. "But do not mistake 'known' for 'understood.' Some lands hold secrets even the Legendary Families fear to unveil."

His finger moved to the Stormcrest Highlands, a vast, jagged range of mountains in the north.

"The Highlands are home to the Stormborn Clan, where the sky itself decides the fate of their children. The storms there never cease. In fact, the deeper you go, the more violent the sky becomes. The heart of the Highlands, the Eye of the Tempest, is a place where lightning strikes in the same spot every hour of every day, as if the heavens themselves are trying to kill something buried beneath."

Caelum shivered at the thought. A force so violent… yet contained. What lay beneath that storm?

Varian's hand glided southward to a region marked in gray, its borders jagged, as though ink alone struggled to define it.

"The Silent Vale. Homeland of the House of Silent Echoes. It is a place where sound itself is devoured. No echoes, no whispers. Some say the land remembers every sound ever made, trapping them in its depths, waiting for the right moment to release them. Others believe something lurks beneath the Vale, something that feeds on sound, growing stronger with every word that is lost to it."

Caelum clenched his jaw. Something that feeds on sound…?

Varian's gaze darkened as he pointed toward a massive wasteland in the south.

"The Hollow Dominion. Once, it was fertile. Now, it is a land where nothing grows, where the dead do not rest. The Hollow Monarchs rule here, bending spirits to their will. Some believe their curse—their lack of hearts—is connected to the land itself. That the Dominion does not allow life because something deeper is consuming it."

Something older than the Hollow Monarchs themselves? Caelum's pulse quickened.

Then, Varian moved his finger westward, toward a stretch of land soaked in darkness. The ink here was different—smudged, chaotic, as though the very act of drawing it had disturbed something unseen.

"The Eclipsed Lands," he murmured. "The domain of the Children of the Vanishing Sun. Here, the sky is always gray, as if the world itself is waiting for a sun that will never return. Some say the sun is not missing… but swallowed. That in the heart of the Eclipsed Lands, there is a place where the sky has been torn open, revealing a darkness that should not exist."

Caelum swallowed.

How could a tear in the sky exist? And what lay beyond it?

Then Varian's finger moved toward the center of the map, toward the beating heart of the world.

"Aetheris." His voice was softer now. "The place where all power converges. The place where all of you—heirs, warriors, monsters—are gathered. It is not just a city. It is a battleground, a testing ground, the crucible that forges the next rulers of the world."

Caelum exhaled. He knew Aetheris was important. But the way Varian spoke of it… it was more than that.

Then, Varian's hand hesitated.

There was one more place.

One that no kingdom claimed, one that no map fully captured.

The Abyssal Expanse.

Caelum's eyes locked onto it. Unlike the other regions, this one had no borders, no markings of civilization. It was a void. A place where ink seemed to sink into the parchment itself, refusing to hold form.

Varian's voice was lower now. Almost reverent.

"The Abyssal Expanse is not just unexplored. It is a place that rejects understanding."

Caelum felt something cold brush against his skin.

"There are no maps of the Abyssal Expanse because those who try to map it… do not return."

Caelum's fingers tightened.

"What's in it?"

Varian's expression was unreadable. "No one knows. But there are stories. Of places where time folds over itself, where warriors have seen their own deaths before they happen. Of voices that do not belong to the living, or the dead. Of cities that appear for a single night and then vanish, never to be seen again."

Caelum felt his throat dry.

A place where time folds. Where things appear and disappear, defying reason.

"There is a legend," Varian said. "That somewhere in the Abyssal Expanse, there is a place called the Nameless Ruin. A city where the strongest warriors who ever lived vanished without a trace."

Caelum's heart pounded.

"So… something killed them?"

Varian shook his head. "No. It's worse than that. They simply… ceased to exist. As if they were erased, down to their very souls."

Silence settled over the room.

Caelum didn't realize how hard he was gripping his hands until his knuckles turned white.

The world was vast.

It was terrifying.

And yet… something within him stirred.

Excitement?

Or dread?

Varian let out a slow breath. "This is the world you live in, Caelum. And one day, you will have to face it."

Caelum met his gaze.

Somewhere out there, in the heart of the unknown, there was something waiting.

And it was watching.