The Sacred Empire of Naikirin.

The hallowed land grounded in ancient myth and divine order. The remote islands on the periphery of the Known World, ages after Aruan the Great perished and is no more.

Here, heated superstition defies cold logic. Gusty winds sweep over the sky-brushing towers, where jaded betters bask in intrigue and excess. Drizzling rains wash away the blood of the fallen and the sins of the thrivers. Silky mists conceal the ignorance of the deranged smallfolk as they drag another innocent for the lynch. And even the divinities have lost their silver crowns and look upon the fractured realm with an evil eye.

Only a few reflect on their deeds with remorse, yet their prayers will remain unheard. The Storm of His Wrath is looming, ready to purify both the mortal and the divine. From the imposed truth, from the blasphemy, from the madness they had embraced so willingly...

Or, perhaps, it is all but an illusion. A fleeing daydream, a feverish nightmare...

But even so, why should that mean it is not real?