The Thyssian Archipelago rose from the deep as six treacherous islands. Islands that were forged from stone and sand, with kings and conquerors alike. Long ago, the gods gave each kingdom a relic to protect. In return, their peoples would remain safe from the servants of the Void. Years bled into centuries as their respect rotted into complacency. Thyssia, the mother island, sheltered three kingdoms on its soil as it reached across the sea. In the east, Trejen’s forests neatly encircled the verdant meadows while new trees crept closer each spring. Cerulean river lands carved through the island under the watchful eyes of house Spessia and everyone drank from its meandering depths. All of this was overshadowed by a solitary broken mountain. Their people’s separation from the gods fractured its stony face into a chasm, a wound that released any magic the mountain held within its depths. Their relic was ruined by abomination in the wake of Haydrian’s touch. He was an alchemist who relished in the hope of immortality. As the kingdoms of Thyssia disregarded their duty to the nine, so waned their fear of the Void.