The Forbidden Cave
Mirevault — The Forbidden Cave
Far beneath Kandasa’s polished courtyards and ascendant spires lies a place so warped, it’s not spoken of openly—not even in whispers. Mirevault isn’t merely forbidden. It’s disavowed, purged from maps, and omitted from memory by those who fear its pull.
Once, Mirevault was a deep earth mine where brave laborers sought rare arcane metals. They unearthed something older than magic, older than time itself—a buried fracture in the world's natural laws. With every strike of the pickaxe, reality splintered. The walls of the mine began to bleed light, and the ground beneath it dissolved into vapor. Structures vanished, and even the workers’ names became fog in their own minds. Mirevault became a wound: not just of stone, but of existence.
Legends now say that Mirevault unravels identity. Travelers who enter report vivid hallucinations, shifting voices, and thoughts that loop endlessly before falling silent. Some emerge changed—eyes wrong, speech reversed, memories displaced. Others reappear years later, untouched by age, holding items from futures that haven’t happened.
Where Kandasa rewards talent and brilliance, Mirevault consumes it. Velmara herself once stood at its brink, stating that Kandasa was built in defiance of this place. In her words: “A city of rising is never born from sinking. Guard the spiral, lest it seduce your mind.” From that day on, Mirevault was declared untouchable. And yet, curiosity thrives.
Scholars, rogue magicians, and thrill-seekers still attempt the descent, drawn by rumors of forbidden knowledge and materials that twist enchantments beyond recognition. Kandasa has outlawed research on Mirevault’s anomalies, but underground circles speak of maps that breathe and compasses that scream when pointed toward it.
No one is supposed to go. But someone always does.
And if Mirevault remembers you... you won’t remember yourself.
Once, Mirevault was a deep earth mine where brave laborers sought rare arcane metals. They unearthed something older than magic, older than time itself—a buried fracture in the world's natural laws. With every strike of the pickaxe, reality splintered. The walls of the mine began to bleed light, and the ground beneath it dissolved into vapor. Structures vanished, and even the workers’ names became fog in their own minds. Mirevault became a wound: not just of stone, but of existence.
Legends now say that Mirevault unravels identity. Travelers who enter report vivid hallucinations, shifting voices, and thoughts that loop endlessly before falling silent. Some emerge changed—eyes wrong, speech reversed, memories displaced. Others reappear years later, untouched by age, holding items from futures that haven’t happened.
Where Kandasa rewards talent and brilliance, Mirevault consumes it. Velmara herself once stood at its brink, stating that Kandasa was built in defiance of this place. In her words: “A city of rising is never born from sinking. Guard the spiral, lest it seduce your mind.” From that day on, Mirevault was declared untouchable. And yet, curiosity thrives.
Scholars, rogue magicians, and thrill-seekers still attempt the descent, drawn by rumors of forbidden knowledge and materials that twist enchantments beyond recognition. Kandasa has outlawed research on Mirevault’s anomalies, but underground circles speak of maps that breathe and compasses that scream when pointed toward it.
No one is supposed to go. But someone always does.
And if Mirevault remembers you... you won’t remember yourself.
