:8000 Years:

Shen walked over a street made of pure stone, unbroken, unnatural. Every step left him conflicted. The sun hadn't shown her face in years, though conflicting memories proved otherwise. False light surrounded him, peering through the windows of these unnatural doors. Palaces built upwards into the skies, distinguished by the words, etched in dull flames, into the skies above. Around him, peasants-- no, something else entirely lounged in doorways, huddled together for warmth, their odd clothing hiding little of their bodies. Women stumbled through the streets, pulling others towards shady doorways... something he was accustomed to within Otan, though the bright, unnatural hair and the colorful threads within their skin made him pause. They spoke, their words barely audible. Twin voices, as though possessed, assailed him, though he couldn't feel any malefactor within. He couldn't feel any spirits. A cold was setting in, icicles forming in the back of his mind.

Within minutes, he was back, eyes glazed, ragged breaths returning.

Technology is a taboo subject in many places throughout Xùyì, which is ironic given the positive views and prevalence of necromancy. Though it was the Soul-Magic harnessed by the Dwarfs that led to the construction of the Imperial Palace, and the use of similar magic is believed to have brought the Fallen. While magic can be called educated savagery, a single spell capable of rending the soul from flesh, technology has taken the agency from the hands of men. Where a spell, much like the sword, costs the time to learn, and the resolve to enact, the machine is emotionless and without the restraints of morality.

Yet, there is a piece of technology hidden within the center of the known world. Gold is invaluable to them; the technology not for sale. Yet, within the enclaves, the technology is freely offered. To speak of this is futile, for the name given is a series of random numbers, following the undecipherable path where they soon will go. Forged in the smithy's above and below, and tinkered by depraved minds across the realms, this system allows anyone to glimpse into one of the many possible futures, living momentarily through the eyes of another. Lost in what feels like another world, time becomes meaningless, the distance traveled anyone's guess, for the machine works through pseudoscience, superstitious artifacts, and the fragmented concepts written by a lost Elder Race.

To use the technology, one must adhere to something similar to a star chart. The seeker has the key elements of their existence shown, though it only requires the things out of a person's hands. The date, time, and location of birth. A measure of the blood within, to see what is said of their personalities. The energy flowing within each breath, the divine opposing energies that flow within, is taken and breathed into the final preparations. Lastly, the helm is placed upon their heads, blinding them to this reality as they awaken in another.

Seeing through the eyes of a stranger, breathing with the same lungs, actually feeling and thinking what they do changes a person completely. What was once unshakable truths crumble into lies, the visions of what could come to pass deeply affecting them. A sliver of their essence always remains in the body they co-inhabited, a small void, in the back of the mind, following those who have used it. Yet, the need to know and understand overtakes many. For every 'wrong future' entered, another sliver of them is left behind. Hardly noticeable at first. Yet, the more that is lost, the less it seems to take from them. Where life was vibrant, a husk remains. The more that they travel, the greater the visions, the less that remains of themselves.