The grove
Once the pride of the city, The Grove stretches in a broad belt between the Wall of spirit and the Wall of honour. In the days before the Closed Gates Period, this district was a cultivated paradise—a sweeping city park laced with elegant botanical gardens, winding avenues, and secluded mansions belonging to zyrokhil’s old aristocracy. These estates, built in elaborate styles that mix stone with greenhouse glass, were known for their exotic plants, intricate fountains, and artful topiary.
The Grove is at once enchanting and threatening—a place where ancient beauty wars with wild resurgence. Its forgotten mansions serve as lairs for druids, renegades, and magical beasts. Secret societies still hold clandestine meetings in its shadowed glades. The old rail lines and roads are barely navigable but still offer a lifeline between the city’s harried workers and the merchants of Coinsquare. The Grove is where the boundaries of civilization blur, and where zyrokhil’s future—rooted in its magical past—might just be reborn.
Geography
Dominating the western end near Coinsquare stands the great Temple of obsidian and marble. Its polished black and white façade, veined with faint silver, rises above the wild treetops like a monument to a forgotten order. Once the center for the city’s most important seasonal rites, the temple now sits half-shrouded in creepers and flowering vines, its courtyards home to the spirits and hermits who have claimed it in the city’s long twilight.
A broad paved road and a rusted but still-functional rail track run the length of The Grove, linking The crane's that heave carts over the Wall of spirit from the harborside and warehouses (just beyond the far side of the hill) directly on the path to the bustling markets of Coinsquare. In centuries past, these routes teemed with porters, carts, and passenger trams, ferrying both goods and dignitaries under a canopy of rare trees.
Fauna & Flora
The years of neglect during the Closed Gates Period changed everything. Without the subtle hand of city gardeners—and with the magic that sustained so many imported species fading away—the botanical gardens became choked with underbrush, wild saplings split flagstone paths, and the old mansions fell into slow decay. The upper classes fled to the fortified inner districts or vanished altogether.
Now, with magic flowing again, The Grove has become something stranger and far more dangerous. The plants have reawakened. Twisted roots and riotous blossoms bristle with latent power, eager to reclaim the land and push the boundaries of their old, tamed forms. Rumors speak of predatory vines, luminous mosses, and sentient blooms lurking beneath the jungle-thick undergrowth, ready to remake The Grove into the primal forests from which they once sprang.
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