Cenavere

Formerly the beating heart of the world; now, its echo.
  Rising from the high terrace plains between the Weeping Vale and the sky-cracked mountains of the Altunic Reach, Cenavere is a city of impossible grace and layered sorrow. It is said that the gods themselves carved its first foundations into the bedrock with silvered nails and wept as the stones were laid—thus its name, Cenavere, meaning “where the crown weeps.”
  The capital once served as the seat of Serelyne the Sorrowmother, a city veiled in celestial gold and mourning lilac. Towers crowned with obsidian thorns rose alongside spires bathed in eternal dawnlight. Mirrored halls reflected constellations, even at midday, and its law was etched not in parchment but into wind-chimes made from starlit glass.
  Here, the great Orders kept their courts. The Onycine Intent whispered its riddled edicts, and the paladins of the Veiled Star knelt in orchards of ash-blossom trees. It was from Cenavere’s highest sanctum—the Thronery of Petals—that the gods watched the world bloom and wither.
  But now? Now it lies fractured. In the Era of Unbloomed Sorrow, its lower tiers crumble, overtaken by root and ruin. The throne sits empty, the streets whisper with the breath of those who remember, and its bells ring only when no one is listening.
  Still, Cenavere endures. For what is a capital, if not the memory of power?