Welcome to the Arborverse
Where every root holds memory, every moon stirs magic, and every world remembers.
"The bloom remembers what the bark forgets. All things lost return to root."
—Excerpt from the Rootbound Codex, sealed entry Spiraldeep 19,177 ACY
A Multiverse of Living Worlds
Across the tangled fabric of time and planes, seven vast worlds stretch their canopies toward distant stars. Each is alive—anchored by a Great Tree that grows not from soil, but from the very essence of existence.
This is the
Arborverse:
a multiverse of living worlds, sealed secrets, and ancient forces that never truly died.
“To travel between them was once simple. But the Rootlock sealed the paths, and the worldlings forgot one another...”
Magic is Not Learned. It Is Remembered.
Magic here does not come from textbooks or formulae.
It flows through the
Weaves—arcane, elemental, wild, mortal, and nether—each alive with memory and intent.
The spark of magic is
remembered, not learned.
It is something your bones know.
Something the wind recalls.
Something whispered in dreams and echoed in ruins.
Those who wield power do so not because they study—but because they
resonate. They remember what their ancestors forgot. Something within them blooms.
Species Rooted in Spark
Six sapient lineages call the Arborverse home:
Homin,
Verdants,
Drakin,
Witherlings,
Zoomorphics, and
Constructs.
Each evolved differently, shaped by their bond to the Weaves.
Some live in floating cities, others in bone-bound fortresses. Some were born close to power. Others were shaped by its fallout.
“We do not cast spells.
We cast echoes of what once was.”
A Forgotten History, Whispering Back
Long ago, the worlds warred over relics too powerful to control:
Seeds of Power,
Sprouts of Order, and
Elemental Blooms.
Their struggle shattered the balance of the planes in what fragments call
The Great Splintering.
To save what remained, the
Rootlock Accord sealed the multiverse.
Inter-world travel ceased.
And memory itself was rewritten.
Most today believe their world is alone.
They are wrong.
Echoes Stir Once More…
Somewhere, a Sprout pulses beneath a buried shrine.
A Construct dreams of trees it has never seen.
A bloom opens in a dead temple.
Something has begun to
awaken.
And the Arborverse is listening.
The worlds are not silent.
They are waiting.
Wherever you begin—be warned:
Even memory is not safe.
