Vael’Zyr

Vael’Zyr is a long-lost and hidden sky island, rumored to have survived the great war between the Sky People and the Grounddwellers. Ever elusive, it has defied all attempts to uncover its true location, existing only in whispers and fragmented tales.

Echoes of the Hidden Isle

In the smoke-filled dens of Mirzaryn, where pirate lords barter in secrets as often as they do in stolen gold, a merchant named Vurim Tal claims to possess a celestial chart unlike any other. He speaks of pathways forgotten by time, star-lit trails carved by the old ways - routes that, if read correctly, may lead one to the mythic isle. But Vurim deals not in coin, only in favors steeped in peril.

Far from the trade winds, deep in the heart of the Great Desolation, the sands shift and sigh, burying what once stood proud. Zaravelle, a monastery now entombed beneath the dunes, is said to guard a device of uncanny precision - an astrolabe that once guided monks to places unseen by mortal eyes. If the stars still whisper their secrets to its mechanisms, perhaps it alone could unveil the path to Vael’Zyr. But The Desolation does not give up its treasures easily.

In the crumbling halls of the Asylum of Hollow Whispers, where madness coils around the tongues of the forsaken, a voice calls out - a doomspeaker, raving of golden spires adrift in endless blue. They say he was not always lost to the abyss of his mind, that he once beheld the hidden island before reason abandoned him. Yet who would heed the words of the broken? And what price must be paid to learn the truth from lips that know only sorrow?

And then, there are the Beltrane, those towering lords of Malajah-rak, their vaults brimming with relics of bygone ages. Among their collections lies a single, tattered record - an old trade manifest, its ink faded, its words brittle with time. It speaks of an exchange made long ago, a bargain struck with those who dwell above the clouds. If the script can be believed, Vael’Zyr once touched the world below, and those who held the ledger knew its place. But the Beltrane do not part with their treasures lightly, and their halls are filled with eyes that watch, weigh, and judge.

The island remains a mystery, a prize for the bold, a folly for the reckless. The sky swallows its own, and Vael’Zyr, if it exists, is a ghost among the winds - seen only by those willing to chase the horizon beyond the limits of reason.