When shards of shattered
Amalthea rained upon
Alana almost three millennia ago, they gouged the land into a broad ring of impact craters and salted every wound with the strange, moon-born ore now called
Aeum. What began as an astral accident soon rewrote the natural order: the
Titans felt the metal’s sting, the
Old Gods weaponised it, and an age of wonder and unease dawned in equal measure.
Manifestation / Visualisation
Travellers recognise a crater by its glass-skinned ridges and the faint lavender haze that shimmers whenever moonlight strikes exposed veins of Aeum. In daylight those same seams glimmer blue-white, running like cold lightning through otherwise ordinary rock. At night they throb with a gentle radiance, the pulse quickening whenever Amalthea rises full in the sky.
The Aeum’s touch warps the living as boldly as it paints the landscape. Meadows close to a fall site grow
Glowblooms whose petals lantern the dusk; their pollen carries a mint-silver sparkle that clings to fur and feathers. Pines twist into spiral spires, bark shot through with metallic filaments that ring like crystal when struck. Beasts drink run-off laced with trace ore and emerge broader of shoulder, eyes lit by an inner glint. Some sprout mirrored plates along the spine; others simply live longer, as though the moon remembers to wind their hearts a little tighter.
Amalthea by Tillerz using MJ
People, too, may become shard-touched. A sliver lodged beneath the skin often crusts over in weeks, leaving nothing but a pale birthmark; yet on rare occasions the wound never closes. Those so marked find spells easier to weave or discover an instinctive knack for steering the powerful Aeum-engines that keep modern sky-ships aloft. The same gift can be a curse: overuse draws the blood toward an icy chill and etches fine cracks of light across the user’s veins.
Localisation
Most upheaval remains inside - or just down-slope of - the craters themselves. Aeum’s densest lodes lie buried where the shards first came to rest, their raw magic muffled by the weight of earth. Wind and water, however, slowly grind the rimrock to powder and carry that dust afar. River deltas dozens of leagues away now boast pockets of luminous clay; highland pastures glow faintly after a storm when airborne specks settle upon the grass. Even so, distance dilutes potency: the further one roams from a crater, the subtler the change, until the moon’s fingerprint fades completely.
Shardfall by Tillerz using MJ
Beliefs & Religions
Where nature rewrites itself, imagination soon follows.
The Watchers of the Violet Glass keep vigil atop the largest craters, convinced that each pulse of Aeum is a heartbeat counting down towards some calamity.
Rabbitfolk near the
Terraverde Basin hail
Lumina as the guardian of their land;
honey-cakes and silver coins left at dusk are tributes offered in exchange for safe passage through glowing meadows.
Though the scholars and scientists now agree that every crater was forged by splintered fragments of Amalthea, such learning rarely filters beyond oak-panelled lecture halls. Among farmers and caravaners the pits remain “God-Marks” or “Titan Footprints”, woven into fireside yarns that better fit the old hymns. On the few occasions word of the lunar origin does seep into tavern chatter, it jars so sharply with long-held doctrine that most listeners simply blink, smile, and file it away as another scholar’s fancy - if not outright heresy. Dwarven priests of
The Fractured Anvil declare the notion an insult to their creation myth; Lumina’s lantern-bearers dismiss it as arrogance, insisting only a living goddess could carve valleys that still glow with purpose. Thus the truth, bright as it may seem through a telescope’s lens, continues to wander the realm half-cloaked, believed by the curious, scorned by the devout, and politely ignored by everyone who would rather keep their world orderly and small.
Additional Notes for the Lorekeeper
Arcane Resonance: Spellcasters report heightened sensitivity during every “Silver Week,” when Amalthea swings closest in its orbit and Aeum lines glow brightest.
Economic Ripple: many countries have put strict rules on Aeum trade; smuggling shards has become as lucrative - and dangerous - as dragon bone or black powder.
Environmental Drift: Scholars warn that heavy rain seasons could sluice still-active dust into major rivers within a century, spreading low-grade mutations across floodplains unprepared for change. Whether this heralds abundance or blight remains an open question.
Heck yes