Glimmering Fen
Nestled just south of the luminous canopies of the Starlit Glaves, the Glimmering Fen is a hauntingly beautiful wetland where magic saturates the water, the air, and the very soil. At first glance, it appears as a vast marshland, dotted with luminous lily pads, winding waterways, and moss-covered cypress trees. But at twilight, the region lives up to its name—its pools mirror the stars, its mists glitter with floating motes of arcane light, and whispers ripple along the water's surface.
This is a place of quiet enchantment and lingering sorrow. The fen’s glow is not simply natural—it is born from the ambient Fey magic that leaks from the nearby Glaves and the verdant veins of ley energy running just beneath the mire. The water holds strange properties: it reflects things not just as they are, but as they might have been. Travelers often see visions of their past or dreams of what could be, and many come here seeking solace, truth, or transformation.
Beneath the still waters lie ancient ruins, half-swallowed by peat and vine—remnants of a forgotten civilization believed to have worshipped the moon and stars. Some claim that Sera, Goddess of the Moon, once wept into these lands, creating the glowing fenflowers that now bloom in floating constellations each night. Others say the Archfey Liora once danced here, and her footfalls still stir the water's edge.
Creatures of the fen are as strange and shifting as the region itself. Fey beasts like willow wisps, fen sprites, and moon-touched dryads call this place home, while more enigmatic beings—mirror-hags, mirelings, and fenbound revenants—lurk deeper in the mist. The Glimmering Fen is no stranger to illusion, and many who enter unprepared may wander in circles, reliving memories that are not their own.
Druids, witches, and exiles sometimes make their homes along the fen’s periphery, crafting huts that sit on stilts or drift slowly across the waters. These dwellers are often marked by the land—subtle glows to their eyes, voices that echo oddly, or dreams that bleed into waking life. Many are protectors of the fen, warding off those who would harm its balance or harvest its rare, mystical flora.
