The land of Jaburan wasn't born; it coalesced. Not from rock and dust, but from the solidified whispers of forgotten gods. Each grain of sand holds a fragment of their lament, a resonance of desires and regrets. Legend speaks of the Weaver, a being of pure energy, who attempted to capture the very essence of existence. His efforts, though ultimately futile, fractured reality, scattering shards across what would become Jaburan. The native inhabitants, the Sylvani, are intrinsically linked to these fragments, their lives dictated by the ebb and flow of the forgotten gods' influence. They possess a strange ability to manipulate the sand, not with brute force, but with subtle gestures and meditative focus – a skill known as ‘Sand-Speaking’. It's said that prolonged exposure to the Sand-Speaking can lead to vivid, prophetic dreams, but also to a slow unraveling of the self, a merging with the collective sorrow of Jaburan.
The Sylvani are a nomadic people, dwelling within colossal, naturally-formed sandstone structures known as ‘Echo-Caves’. These caves amplify the residual energy of the gods, creating swirling patterns of light and shadow within their chambers. The architecture itself seems to respond to emotional states--walls shifting, corridors lengthening or shrinking depending on the collective mood of the Sylvani. They communicate primarily through intricate hand gestures and melodic humming, mimicking the sounds of the wind whistling through the canyons.
Central to Jaburan’s ecosystem is the ‘Lumina’, a bioluminescent fungus that grows exclusively in the deepest canyons. The Lumina pulses with a hypnotic rhythm, mirroring the heartbeat of the forgotten gods. The intensity of the Lumina’s glow directly correlates to the Sylvani's collective emotional state. During periods of great joy or profound sorrow, the Lumina bursts into a breathtaking display of color, illuminating the entire land. However, the Lumina is also a source of danger. When the collective sorrow reaches a critical mass, the Lumina’s light becomes corrupted, manifesting as ‘Shadow-Sand’ – a viscous, dark substance that drains life and amplifies negative emotions. The Sylvani priests, known as the 'Veil-Keepers', dedicate their lives to maintaining balance, performing complex rituals to soothe the gods and prevent the Shadow-Sand from consuming Jaburan.
The Veil-Keepers utilize a peculiar instrument called the ‘Resonance Stone’. This stone, carved from a single piece of petrified Lumina, is said to be able to filter the chaotic energy of the gods, but only if played with absolute precision. The music produced by the Resonance Stone isn't just sound; it's a tangible force, capable of shifting the very fabric of reality within a limited radius.
Scattered throughout Jaburan are the remnants of civilizations that predated the Sylvani. These ruins, often submerged beneath the shifting sands, are haunted by echoes of their former inhabitants – spectral figures trapped between worlds. These ‘Lost’ aren’t malicious, but they are profoundly melancholic, reliving their final moments over and over again. Some believe these Lost can be contacted through Sand-Speaking, but attempting to do so is fraught with peril. The Lost are fiercely protective of their memories, and prolonged interaction can lead to a complete dissolution of one’s own identity, absorbed into the collective sorrow of Jaburan.
Rumors persist of a hidden city, ‘Veridia’, buried beneath the dunes. Legend says Veridia was a utopia, built by a race of artisans who mastered the art of manipulating the Lumina. However, their ambition ultimately led to their downfall, as they attempted to harness the gods' power for their own purposes. The entrance to Veridia is said to be guarded by a colossal Sand-Golem, animated by the residual energy of the gods and the shattered dreams of the Veridian people.