Shine Amysgal
The known regions of Shine Amysgal
A Universe on the Edge of Oblivion
The Shine is a dimension ruled by The Cult—a theocratic empire spanning countless worlds. It is a place of ancient ruins, impossible technologies, and wars that reshape reality itself. And it is dying, consumed slowly by Gloom.
The known regions of Shine Amysgal
Key places within the Shine and beyond.
The Cult's impenetrable sanctuary at the center of all civilization, encircled by dozen-mile-high walls. Within sits the jovian-scale hull of the Khavyrym—the machine god that births and rebirths souls. From here, the Cult watches man, controlling who is pulled from death and reprinted.
An incision in reality itself. A biomechanical tower thirty thousand miles wide that ascends—perhaps literally—forever, stretching from horizon to horizon. Not even the Cult knows what it is, who built it, or when. For however old the Shine is, The Seam is older. Infinitely so.
An endless ghost world of glossy black glass stretching along the Shine's northern fringe. Hundred-mile-high constructs fracture light through hairline cracks. Ash storms slide from its cliffs like waterfalls. The Cult doesn't intrude on account of its apparent "grudge" against them.
Spike-shaped mountains crowded together in ranges, their near-vertical landscapes an endless mosaic of machines: cliffsides of mega-circuitry, valleys of pipelines, canopies of hanging wires. Hidden within lies the Chattering Gate—sealed for over half a million years.
Remnants of Sundyr's game with Oszyur, when two Lensers made the Shine their board and bounced equations to see which would be proven cleverest. Planet-sized constructs that were liquid for an instant before snapping into place. The vaults weren't meant to save lives—they were meant to keep rival Lensers from scoring points.
A glowing, toxic sea of sky-scraping waves that must be crossed to reach The Seam. Its acidic waters separate civilization from the storm-ravaged, unnamed sands beyond. A journey across it is one the suicidal would shirk for easier deaths.
The powers that shape existence.
A theocratic empire controlling who the Khavyrym pulls from death and reprints—uniformly wiping the minds of the reborn. Their artificial suns light the Shine. When Lensers destroyed worlds for private entertainment, the Cult created Reapers to bring them down. And after their job was done, the Cult did away with them too.
The sentient dimension below where stars hang, where black holes drip into lightless depths. It rustles with things that quietly consume universes and steal souls. What dead men called outer space, the people of the Shine shiver at—daring only to whisper its name when enough alcohol is in their system to make death feel abstract.
Gods of gore who find power in wounding themselves. Behemoths of tooth and sinew whose war beasts wear the skin Fleshcrafters cut from their own bodies. Their creations' only purpose is to kill and consume. The more they kill, the more they grow. Even the free ones never come to the surface anymore.
The great houses of the Shine, each tied to their respective worlds and worldvaults. Luu, Kull, Uut, Yiln—names passed down through eons of war and politics. Though Lensers descended into the annals of their respective Prides, they never truly died. Scraps of those lost minds are still being plucked out of soil laced with iron and blood and tears.
The ancient writing system used throughout the Shine. Vertical columns read top to bottom, right to left.
