Aureth

The world was never finished. It was drafted, abandoned, and left to dream itself awake.

Before history, the land buckled, and seas argued with the sky. Names rotted, cities forgot they had ever stood, and people clung to the scraps of order that would not dissolve. When reason itself began to fray, the Nine Territories bound their survival into law. Not divine law, but human—agreements so old and fearful that reality learned to obey them.

These became the Sanctioned Processes—nine living covenants that taught the world how to hold together. They are the bones beneath every custom and creed, the invisible pulse that keeps bridges standing and graves at peace. Their origin is no longer questioned. Their neglect is unthinkable.

Now Aureth endures: a closed system of fog, stone, and memory. The horizon has not been crossed in millennia. The stars are mapped but never trusted. Each territory guards its Process with ritual precision, terrified not of punishment, but of collapse—the quiet unraveling that begins when the world forgets its own rules. And yet, beneath the weight of obedience, a new restlessness stirs. The air hums with contradictions, the old certainties fray at their edges, and the world itself seems to listen for something beyond its borders.

Aureth remembers what happens when order fails;

but it has never learned what happens when it endures for too long.