Slops

In the world of Aera, the sky no longer exists. It vanished centuries ago, taking with it the warmth of the sun and the light of the moon. What remains are floating islands, drifting above an endless chasm, surrounded by a mist that devours everything that falls into it. The world beneath is forgotten—only the inhabitants of the islands survive, clinging to what little they can.

The fall of the sky brought a cataclysm that shattered the world, leaving only fragments of the past. No one truly understands what caused it, but the legends speak of an ancient power, long lost to time. Some say it was a war between gods, others claim it was a mistake made by the people themselves. All that remains are the broken pieces, scattered across the world in the form of mysterious relics, each holding untold power.

The survivors live in the shadow of the sky’s absence, their lives shaped by the struggle to survive in a world that no longer makes sense. And in the midst of it all, a young girl named Lira is about to discover that the past is not as far behind as it seems. The secrets of the sky still linger, and the forces that seek to control it will stop at nothing to claim the power it holds.

The Skyless World

The map glowed faintly in Lira's hand, its lines shifting and realigning with every few steps they took. Cael walked beside her, his expression unreadable but his hand never far from his weapon. Though the ruins had long been swallowed by nature, ancient markers—stones carved with faded symbols—guided their way.

"According to the map," Cael murmured, studying the runes, "the first shard is not far. There's an old village nearby, one lost even before the Great Divide."

Lira glanced around. The air was thick with mist, and the trees loomed overhead like silent watchers. Every step they took felt heavier, as if the ground itself resisted their presence.

Hours passed in tense silence until they stumbled upon the remains of a village. Crumbling houses lay scattered around a square where a dry fountain stood. Ivy had overtaken the stones, but faint echoes of life still lingered in the air.

"We should rest here," Cael suggested. "The village… it feels untouched for a reason."

Lira hesitated. Something about the place prickled at her senses. Yet her body ached for a break, and she knew they couldn't keep moving without pause.

As they set up a small camp near the fountain, Lira wandered around the ruined square. Her fingers brushed over an old wooden sign, the letters worn but still legible:

Cael joined her, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "Velmora was once a sanctuary for scholars and mages. Before everything fell apart."

Lira looked at him. "Do you think… there might still be something left here? Something that could help us?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he crouched down and brushed aside dirt and vines, revealing a sigil etched into the cobblestones — the same sigil found on the shard.

Whatever this village once was, it was tied to the shard's secrets.

And Velmora, even in its silence, still had stories to tell.

Echoes of Forgotten Paths