Isekai

The Lost of Time

gazeofdisaster

In Aeturnum, every soul dies before it is born. Life is not a beginning, but a return. People are born carrying the weight of a previous death — a complete, forgotten life that occurred in the metaphysical "First Realm."

Author's Note: WIP - waiting for features like class skill and lore update “We all die before we are born. Some remember. Most do not. You—you are different. You are awakening.” Dear Traveler, Welcome to Aeturnum, a world stitched together by sorrow, wonder, and a thousand forgotten names. This is not a realm of light and dark, good or evil. This is a world shaped by what you remember, what you forget, and what you are willing to give up to become real again. Aeturnum was born from a question that kept me awake at night: What if our memories were currency? What if our soul was shaped not by what we did—but by what we’ve lost? And from that question came this world, where: Memory fuels magic, trade, and trust. Death is not an ending but the beginning of your name. Emotion can bend reality, forge weapons, and leave scars that whisper. And you—yes, you—might be more than one person, or perhaps less than one, depending on what you find. You may barter your sorrow to cross a memory-bridge. You may fall in love with someone whose name has already been erased. You may discover your own past-life waiting in a vault you swore never to open. Every location breathes: Mountains hum with soul resonance, swamps birth songbound prophets, and cities of glass mirror the names you forget. Every faction is tangled in grief and vision: No clear villains. No perfect heroes. Just philosophies trying to outlive one another. Every class is emotional: You don’t just cast spells or swing swords. You shape memory, wield regret, duel with names, and trap truths inside tattoos and ink. Aeturnum is built for depth. If you like writing layered characters with haunted pasts, uncertain futures, and poetic echoes in every footstep, you’ll feel right at home. This world is meant to linger. In your dreams. In the silence between dialogue. In the quiet moment where a stranger says your name and you feel something… familiar. Aeturnum is not meant to be consumed. It’s meant to be remembered. So take your first breath. Step from the Vaultstream. And begin. — Gazeofdisaster (Or what’s left of me.)

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Aeternum

Aeturnum is a realm suspended between memory and rebirth — a place where every soul is born only after it has died. Governed by the sacred Cycle of Unliving, the land thrives on the echoes of forgotten lifetimes. Memory is the lifeblood of its people, forged into currency, shaped into magic, and traded like gold. Across its luminous skies float vine-clad isles, while deep beneath its seas lie hidden cathedrals of lost knowledge. From the radiant heart of Lumensor to the veiled mires of Vlmedor, Aeturnum pulses with the tension of what was and what might yet return. In Aeturnum, to live is to remember — and to forget is to fall.

Aqualar

Aqualar is a place outside time. It’s considered a vault for primal emotion — joy, sorrow, wonder — too powerful to remain in the world below. Only the chosen may ascend. Suspended high above Aeturnum by colossal white vines that stretch from the clouds like cords of fate, Aqualar is a floating island both beautiful and unknowable. Lush and alien, its terrain consists of skyroot groves, dew-crystal gardens, and levitating archways that sing when wind passes through. Rain here doesn’t fall — it rises, pulled into the vines that drink grief-laced moisture from the land below. Access is rare and unpredictable. Only stormriders, soul-ascendants, and vinebonded pilgrims reach Aqualar — usually via Resonant Bloom, where vines descend, wrap a chosen traveler, and lift them gently skyward. The Skyward Chorus, an ethereal order of memory-listeners and emotion-weavers, dwell here. They believe Aqualar stores the emotional overflow of Aeturnum — truths too potent for the world to carry.

Arcadia

Arcadia is the oldest and most sacred of the mountain regions, believed to be the physical remnants of the First Death's collapse. Pilgrims climb these heights seeking clarity, fasting in ice caves where soul-echoes are rumored to speak. Lore Summary: Arcadia is the oldest and most sacred of the mountain regions, believed to be the physical remnants of the First Death's collapse. Pilgrims climb these heights seeking clarity, fasting in ice caves where soul-echoes are rumored to speak.

Eldraniu's

Eldraniu’s is a bustling port city with ties to both land and sea-based trade. It is famed for its Memory Archives, where travelers may store fragments of experience for safekeeping or sale. Nestled between slate-grey cliffs and a sparkling indigo bay, Eldraniu’s city gleams with terraced ivory buildings half-swallowed by vine and mist. Docks float on woven kelp mats, and cliffside elevators creak as they descend to hidden coves. Lore Summary: Eldraniu’s is a bustling port city with ties to both land and sea-based trade. It is famed for its Memory Archives, where travelers may store fragments of experience for safekeeping or sale.

Eldranly’s – The Great Peaks

Eldranly’s is a place of reverence, used for reflection and funeral rites. Here, souls nearing the end of their second life come to listen to the wind’s judgment, hoping to attain convergence in the Cycle of Unliving. The cragged summits of Eldranly’s are regarded as ancient soul-beacons, mountain-giants that predate memory itself. Believed to be the final resting places of thousands of First Lives, the winds that course through Eldranly’s peaks are said to carry echo-words — fragments of thoughts from long-forgotten incarnations. Funeral pilgrims, soul-scribes, and mystics alike seek the higher altars of this region, hoping to commune with the residue of their true self. The Altarbound maintain holy sites, interpret sky-signs, and preserve the traditions of convergence.

Inverthy

Inverthy is a place of mourning and mystery — a city that bridges land and the deepest sea. Rituals of soul-cleansing are performed here, along with forbidden memory-splicing. Carved into the sheer coastal cliffs at the edge of Karmair’s grasp, Inverthy is both a sacred ruin and an active spiritual stronghold. Above the waves, a cathedral of weathered stone leans into the sea, its spires wrapped in coral and salt-stained vines. Below, beneath the tide, lies Drownsanct — a hidden, breathing city built in mirrored silence, where forgotten memories are anchored and erased. Inverthy is a place of mourning, preservation, and forbidden convergence, governed by the mysterious Submerged Order — an oceanic sect of soul-seers, inkbound priests, and echo-censors who protect memory-archives deemed too dangerous for Aeturnum’s Cycle. The Order views the sea not as a void, but a memory — a living record too vast for the land to hold.

Karmair

Karmair is the ocean’s memory incarnate. It devours all things — even those lost in time. It is both prison and sanctuary for beings who have broken the Cycle. However, what often sinks in the deep of this vast, almost living, ocean is lost seemingly forever.

Karmir's

Karmir’s mountains functions as both a lighthouse and a test — those who survive its inner climb often emerge with their true name revealed. It is the most sacred trial for those seeking convergence. The mountains also have caverns that open up to a volcanic and hellish landscape. A solitary crystalline mountain rises from the sea, its peak ablaze with ever-burning light. The slopes shimmer with colored memory-glass, while caverns deep inside project holograms of past lives to those who dare enter. Lore Summary: Karmir’s functions as both a lighthouse and a test — those who survive its inner climb often emerge with their true name revealed. It is the most sacred trial for those seeking convergence. Faction: The Prism Wardens – a reclusive sect of visionaries who interpret soul reflections and protect the Veil Prism, a relic said to show one’s First Death.

Kessereth

Kessereth is seen as the birthplace of soul-rebirth heat — where the body breaks down into Dust and life may begin again. The volcano is dormant, but its dreams shape the thoughts of nearby creatures. Caverns can access the deep below, a hellscape of lava and fire. A vast, vibrant forest gives way to a yawning caldera covered in emerald growth and glowing moss. Fumaroles breathe steam through tangled root systems, and luminous fireflies drift in rhythmic spirals around the crater’s heart. Lore Summary: Kessereth is seen as the birthplace of soul-rebirth heat — where the body breaks down into Dust and life may begin again. The volcano is dormant, but its dreams shape the thoughts of nearby creatures. Faction: The Emberleaf Conclave – druids, fire-tenders, and griefsmiths who believe in “seeding” memory into volcanic soil to be reborn as healing ash.

Lumensor

Lumensor is the soul-nexus of Aeturnum — the one known location where the Second Breath occurs. Those reborn from the Cycle emerge here, and every major religion considers it a holy site. A radiant tower of unyielding light rises from a crystalline valley, surrounded by concentric fields of glass grass and silver dust. The sky here is always dawn or dusk, glowing with the memory of light itself. Birds made of ash and song wheel through the air. Lore Summary: Lumensor is the soul-nexus of Aeturnum — the one known location where the Second Breath occurs. Those reborn from the Cycle emerge here, and every major religion considers it a holy site. Faction: The Cyclekeepers – an order of midwives, archivists, and soul-guides who oversee memory convergence and preserve the purity of reincarnating souls.

Manathar

Manathar is the sacred heart of Eidomancy. The deeper one ventures, the more powerful the memory resonance becomes. This is a place to train, attune, or purge one's magic of false memory. Manathar is a vast, primeval woodland pulsing with ambient memory. Trees here grow not by sunlight alone, but by resonant emotion, feeding off the psychic residue of the reborn and the grieving alike. Glades shimmer with bioluminescent pollen; bark pulses faintly with old thought; and the deeper one ventures, the more the forest begins to respond — subtly shifting paths, growing structures, or mimicking sound. This living woodland is home to the enigmatic and elusive Thornebinders, a faction of soul-listeners, forest mages, and grief-attuned eidomancers who commune with Manathar as both teacher and deity. They consider the forest a sentient partner in the protection of Aeturnum’s metaphysical balance.

Skalenar

Skalenar thrives on mining and crafting mnemonic materials. Memory Shards are refined, shaped, and sold here in industrial quantities — a lifeblood for the rest of Aeturnum. Rugged hills and subterranean tunnels carved into sparkling memorystone veins. Steam vents hiss beside lava-heated forges where shards are forged into blades, trinkets, and contracts. The town glows with orange and blue biolights from underground fungi. Lore Summary: Skalenar thrives on mining and crafting mnemonic materials. Memory Shards are refined, shaped, and sold here in industrial quantities — a lifeblood for the rest of Aeturnum. Faction: The Ashbinders’ Guild – craftsmen who merge memory and metallurgy, forming everything from soul-locked armor to grief-forged weapons.

The Forbidden Waters

A treacherous stretch of coastline and shallow waters shrouded in perpetual mist, rumored to be cursed and home to restless spirits and dangerous sea creatures. Lore: The Forbidden Waters are a vast and restless expanse where even seasoned seafarers feel the sea’s memory curdle. They are said to be the location where souls that refused the Cycle — or were forcibly severed from it — now drift in madness or hunger. The water here appears darker than night, and light is swallowed instead of reflected. No stars shine directly above this stretch of ocean.

Vlmedor

Vlmedor is feared and respected for its ties to raw, unresolved memory. It’s a land of wandering spirits and forgotten truths. Eidomancers come here to commune with the lost — and sometimes lose themselves in return. Vlmedor is less a place and more a presence. Its mist-thick bogs stretch endlessly, swallowing all sense of direction, sound, and time. The trees here weep memory-sap, and the water churns with the emotional runoff of generations. Its soil refuses to bury the dead; instead, it preserves — bodies, echoes, griefs — in peat or mirrored pools, slowly feeding them back to the land. The Mire-Echoes, a nomadic order of sorrow-harvesters, shamans, and dream-ritualists, call Vlmedor home. They commune with the swamp as though it were a broken god, believing it to be the resting place of lost memories too painful for the Cycle to process.