Sarcine isn't a place found on any map, not in the conventional sense. It exists in a fractured reality, a confluence of temporal echoes and psychic residue. Legend speaks of a civilization, the Sil’kath, who mastered a dangerous art - the manipulation of chronal energy. They sought to unravel the tapestry of time, to correct perceived wrongs, but their ambition birthed only entropy. The resulting cataclysm, known as the Great Unraveling, didn’t destroy Sarcine outright, but shattered it, scattering its fragments across countless timelines. The Sil’kath were not gods, merely profoundly arrogant mortals, and their legacy is one of devastating consequence.
“Time is not a river to be dammed, but a storm to be weathered. We sought to control it, and found only chaos.” – Archivist Theron, last recorded words of the Sil’kath.
Sarcine’s geography is inherently unstable. One moment you might find yourself traversing a basalt canyon sculpted by winds that never existed, the next you're wading through a field of spectral flora, their petals shimmering with the echoes of long-dead emotions. The dominant feature is the Obsidian Coast, a jagged shoreline perpetually shrouded in a violet mist. The stones aren’t merely volcanic; they pulse with a faint, rhythmic energy – the fractured remnants of the Sil’kath’s experiments. Strange, shimmering structures, remnants of their cities, appear and disappear with disconcerting regularity. Navigation is almost impossible; the very laws of physics seem to bend and break in Sarcine.
The dominant color palette is a descent into muted greys and purples, punctuated by flashes of iridescent energy. The air itself feels heavy, laden with the weight of regret and unfulfilled potential. There are whispers, too, carried on the wind – fragments of conversations, screams of anguish, the lingering thoughts of those who were lost in the Unraveling.
The inhabitants of Sarcine are not flesh and blood, but rather “Echoes” – psychic imprints of the Sil’kath themselves. These Echoes are trapped within the landscape, reliving fragments of their past, their emotions raw and unfiltered. Some are benevolent, offering cryptic guidance to those lost in the temporal storms. Others are tormented, consumed by regret and the inability to escape their predetermined fates. They can shift in form, adopting aspects of their former selves, and often appear as shimmering, translucent figures, their voices laced with the melancholy of ages.
The Guardians, on the other hand, are beings of pure chronal energy. They resemble towering, angular figures composed of swirling violet light. They possess an almost unnerving stillness, moving with a deliberate grace that suggests an understanding far beyond mortal comprehension. They are fiercely protective of the temporal boundaries of Sarcine, actively suppressing any attempts to manipulate time. Interacting with a Guardian is said to be like staring into the heart of a storm—a profoundly unsettling experience.