Hartspire
The Hartspire is a partially buried megalith rising from the southern glacial shelf of Yxil-7, located near a tectonic upthrust that exposes a narrow belt of geothermal fissures. Though long presumed to be the remains of a derelict alien installation or early failed outpost, it now serves as a key seasonal refuge for the native nomadic peoples. Large sections of the structure are sealed or collapsed, but several chambers remain accessible year-round, and more open up during the short thaw.
Local inhabitants make full use of the intact sections during the milder season, which they refer to with a term best translated as “the Soft Time.” Small extended families settle into the lower chambers for warmth and protection from surface winds, using thermal vents and scavenged insulation to create temporary shelter. Smoke from small cooking fires is drawn through ancient ventilation shafts that still function to a degree, though some have collapsed and are marked as dangerous. Outside, temporary shelters and windbreaks are built into the structure's shadow using hide, bone, and carved stone—materials hauled across the ice from the central migratory routes.
The Hartspire is more than a shelter. It serves as the tribe’s primary site of social gathering, trade, and spiritual observance. Clan groups converge here to exchange goods, arrange seasonal partnerships, settle disputes, and share news. Communal feasting occurs within the larger interior chamber, a space known to the people as the Listening Room due to its acoustics and natural reverberation. Children are named here and the old are mourned here.
Its walls bear faded carvings and reliefs whose meanings are no longer fully understood, but which remain symbolically important. One chamber features a stylised depiction of a branching structure, often painted with ochre and blood during the gathering season, believed to represent choice, movement, or fate. Elders consult these symbols when advising on migration routes or resolving conflicts, though interpretations vary between families. The Hartspire is not worshipped, but respected—treated as a remnant of something older, wiser, and still somehow watching.
Although the people have no record of where it came from and possess no written language of their own, the Hartspire anchors a sense of belonging. It is not just a ruin. It is part of the rhythm of life. The fact that no outsider has ever mapped its full extent, or entered its deeper chambers, is of little concern to those who return to it each Soft Time. The rest of the cycle is spent on the move. But here, for a few months each rotation, the people stop. And gather. And listen.
Local inhabitants make full use of the intact sections during the milder season, which they refer to with a term best translated as “the Soft Time.” Small extended families settle into the lower chambers for warmth and protection from surface winds, using thermal vents and scavenged insulation to create temporary shelter. Smoke from small cooking fires is drawn through ancient ventilation shafts that still function to a degree, though some have collapsed and are marked as dangerous. Outside, temporary shelters and windbreaks are built into the structure's shadow using hide, bone, and carved stone—materials hauled across the ice from the central migratory routes.
The Hartspire is more than a shelter. It serves as the tribe’s primary site of social gathering, trade, and spiritual observance. Clan groups converge here to exchange goods, arrange seasonal partnerships, settle disputes, and share news. Communal feasting occurs within the larger interior chamber, a space known to the people as the Listening Room due to its acoustics and natural reverberation. Children are named here and the old are mourned here.
Its walls bear faded carvings and reliefs whose meanings are no longer fully understood, but which remain symbolically important. One chamber features a stylised depiction of a branching structure, often painted with ochre and blood during the gathering season, believed to represent choice, movement, or fate. Elders consult these symbols when advising on migration routes or resolving conflicts, though interpretations vary between families. The Hartspire is not worshipped, but respected—treated as a remnant of something older, wiser, and still somehow watching.
Although the people have no record of where it came from and possess no written language of their own, the Hartspire anchors a sense of belonging. It is not just a ruin. It is part of the rhythm of life. The fact that no outsider has ever mapped its full extent, or entered its deeper chambers, is of little concern to those who return to it each Soft Time. The rest of the cycle is spent on the move. But here, for a few months each rotation, the people stop. And gather. And listen.
"I slept where my mother slept, and her mother before her. That stone still holds their warmth."
Founding Date
Unknown
Type
Cathedral / Great temple
