The Sundering Veil

Abyss Layer 6,664,311 The Sundering Veil, Where the Chained Oblivion dreams in the darkness between stars...
Far beyond the reach of mortal understanding, deeper than the wretched pits where demon lords carve their realms, lies a place untouched by time, unwelcome to gods, and inhospitable to all but the most wretched of beings. This is The Sundering Veil, the lowest level of The Abyss, the prison of Juracarth, the Devourer, the Chained Oblivion. Although stunningly beautiful let that not fool you Here, oblivion is not a concept—it is a presence, an inevitability, waiting to unmake existence itself a mere moment is enough to cause irreversible insanity.
This layer of the Abyss is not land, nor water, nor air, but a churning expanse of nebula gases and astral debris, appearing solid but shifting with every step, as if the fabric of reality itself is struggling to hold together. The very ground beneath your feet ripples like water, yet feels as unyielding as steel—an illusion of solidity in a place where nothing is certain.
Above, the sky bears an eternal scar, a vast, cosmic wound where Buer and Aurelia once attempted to sunder the realm in a single, desperate stroke. The universe itself bears testament to this failed act of destruction, as planetary bodies float in The Abyss, each one desolate awaiting its time to be shattered, ruptured, and crumbled into nothingness.
A massive black hole dominates the sky, a wound upon the cosmos visible from every vantage point. It churns with an insatiable hunger, a void within the void, ever-consuming yet never full.
Towering obsidian pillars, remnants of a lost era, stand broken and cleaved in two, their pieces floating, suspended in zero gravity, frozen in the moment of their destruction. Some say these pillars once held creation itself in place, before Juracarth’s hunger threatened to consume all.

The Primordial Ichor

Beneath the shifting veil of nebulous gas lies the Primordial Ichor, an unfathomable ocean of pre-existence, an essence of pure, writhing nothingness. To fall into it is to be unmade—not merely killed, not merely erased, but forgotten by the fabric of reality itself. Those who descend into its depths do not perish; they are undone, as if they never were.

The Chained Oblivion

At the heart of this unmaking void, bound in impossible chains of blackened aether, slumbers Juracarth, the Devourer—a being so vast, so incomprehensibly consuming, that its existence alone is a threat to all creation. Its form is an amalgamation of shadows and endless hunger, a shape that defies logic, a presence that exists only to consume, dissolve, and unmake.
The chains that bind Juracarth are not metal, nor magic, but something beyond even the gods' comprehension—a final act of defiance by forgotten entities who knew that to kill it was impossible, but to imprison it was necessary. The chains coil through the cosmos, anchored to the very fabric of this layer, their presence the only thing keeping the universe from collapsing into the endless abyss.
Even in slumber, Juracarth whispers—a siren call to those who seek power, to those who desire the end of all things. It does not offer gifts, nor bargains, nor lies. It offers only truth:
"All things end. All things fall. All things feed the void. Let me show you the last moment of existence."

Who Dares Tread Here?

Few venture into The Sundering Veil, and even fewer return. This realm is a death sentence, a place where sanity, identity, and existence itself are mere suggestions. Those who come are either mad, desperate, or devoted to oblivion. Some cultists worship Juracarth as the true end, believing that existence itself is a flaw to be corrected. Others come seeking knowledge that should not be known, and some... simply fall through the cracks of the Abyss, drawn into this place like dust spiraling into the maw of the black hole.
This is the final abyss, the place where all things come to die and never be reborn. This is the last moment before the end of all things.

Type

Abyss