Wonders Lost and Longed For:

Scattered across the forgotten bones of Everwealth lie marvels too strange for memory and too beloved for silence. These are not tidy landmarks etched into royal maps or marked by cheerful signs, but staggering sights that defy time and explanation. Some shimmer at the edge of vision, like the Weeping Grove, where every tree bleeds saltwater tears at sunset, while others loom brazenly on the horizon, such as the Spire of Clocks: a monolithic, gear-choked tower that has ticked since before The Great Schism, yet opens for no key, bribe, or spell. Whether crafted by gods, mad kings, or dream-broken scholars, their origin stories have faded into dust, leaving only obsession, pilgrimage, and peril in their wake. Many who seek these places return with nothing but wide eyes and shaking hands. Some vanish entirely, fabled to have slipped through hidden seams in the world. Yet still the seekers come, historians, thieves, worshippers, and fools alike, compelled not by reason, but by the deep-bellied tug of legend. For within these wonders, be they lost or longed for, lies the thrill of impossible truth: that the world is wider than our memories, and hungrier than our maps.