Where islands drift in the endless void
Forget everything you know about worlds and reality.
This is not a planet. This is an archipelago of islands, floating in infinite cosmic darkness.
Magic breathes. The Veil pulses. And ancient powers rule from obsidian thrones of fire.
Forget everything you know about worlds and reality. Aetherium is not a planet. It is an archipelago of islands floating in infinite cosmic void. Hundreds of enormous chunks of land — each the size of a city or an entire country — hang in the darkness. Between them: nothing. Only abyss.
And above your head, instead of sky — the Empyrean Veil.
A living substance of pure magic. A vast, shimmering surface of violet and golden light stretching to the horizon and beyond. It pulses. It breathes. It holds the islands together. Without it, everything would scatter into the void.
The air here is saturated with magic. You feel it on your skin — a tingling, like before a thunderstorm. The smell of ozone. Pressure in your ears. Sometimes you see particles of light drifting through the air like dust in a sunbeam.
Enormous arches of stone or metal, covered in glowing runes. Step through a portal and a moment later you're somewhere else. Sometimes in a neighboring domain. Sometimes thousands of kilometers away. Sometimes in an entirely different reality with different laws. Portals connect all of Aetherium into a single network. Trade. Travel. Wars. Everything flows through them.
At the very center of Aetherium — the Ashen Lands. A giant caldera of a supervolcano. Rivers of lava between black rock. In the center of the caldera, rising straight from the fire, stand three colossal obsidian thrones. On them sit the Charred Council. Three ancient spirits of volcanic nature. Not people. Not gods. Something older and more terrible. Their word is law for all Aetherium.
Home of the vampire dynasties. The sun never rises here. Eternal twilight under the Veil. Divided between five great Houses, each ruling their own domain.
The Celestial Empire of the Angels. White marble temples float among clouds. Golden domes reflect the light of the Veil. A strict hierarchy of order and absolute justice.
The Fiery Domains of demons. Obsidian citadels rise above seas of lava. The sky is crimson. Here, strength is the only currency. Power is earned, held, and taken.
The Eternal Forest. Cities built in the crowns of mountain-sized trees. Rivers of light flow between branches. The elves here are ancient, wise, and deadly when provoked.
Coral pyramids and pearl palaces terracing down to the ocean. The Nagas rule openly. Beneath the waves, a secret kingdom of merfolk, who chose isolation long ago.
Islands hanging higher than all others. Monumental fortresses carved into cliffs. Ancient dragons rule here — beings who remember the birth of Aetherium itself.
A futuristic megapolis of chrome and glass. Holographic interfaces. Flying transports. Neon lights. Neutral territory under the direct rule of the Charred Council.
The seat of ultimate power. The caldera of a supervolcano where the Charred Council sits on their obsidian thrones, ruling all of Aetherium from a lake of magma.
Execution without trial. Includes anything threatening the existence of reality: the magic of life creation, manipulation of temporal streams, dimensional destruction, summoning of Outer Entities.
Requires a license from the Council or local authorities. Necromancy (except in Dalamar lands), mental control, curses, transmutation of living matter, long-range portal magic.
Everything else. Elemental magic. Illusions. Healing. Protective charms. Everyday magic. Use as much as you like. No license required.
In Aetherium, power is not measured in gold. Gold comes and goes. Kingdoms crumble. Empires turn to dust. But there is something that outlives centuries — blood. The Great Dynasties are not merely influential families. They are lines of power stretched across realities. Names that even enemies whisper with respect.
Head: Fike Lamagro — "Lady-Mistress of Primordial Chaos"
The youngest House leader in all of history. The most unpredictable. The most dangerous. Lamagro specializes in the magic of decay, chaos, and electricity. Unpredictability is their weapon; intrigue is their language; diplomacy is their art. They preach chaos as the only instrument of true power. Their architecture is distorted Gothic — all shades of violet, baroque opulence beside grim gargoyles, straight lines intentionally broken. The center of political games, where every word is a weapon. Fike holds both titles: Lady (military) and Mistress (civil and political), making her one of the most influential figures in Aetherium.
Head: Arthur Dalamar — "The Immortal Sovereign"
Called the most composed of all Riders. Arthur does not raise his voice. Does not make threats. He simply watches — and in his gaze is death. Not metaphorical. Real. Dalamar specializes in necromancy and death magic. Their lands are endless necropolises, mausoleums, Gothic cathedrals where the dead rest in open coffins as a reminder of eternity. Here death is not an end. It is a natural law, a part of the cycle — and the Dalamars are its guardians. Warm relations with Lamagro and Brooks.
Head: Efah (Ethiopia) Brooks — "Tamer of Flame"
If Arthur is ice, Efah is fire. Passionate. Impulsive. Her will burns through any obstacle. When she is angry, the air around her melts. The Brooks are masters of pyroplasia — fire spells in their hands become art. Their palaces glow with gold and crimson. Balls last until dawn (which never comes). Theatres where every performance is a masterpiece. Life here is a hedonistic festival where every moment is valued as the last. Because for the immortal, time is the only true luxury. Allied with Lamagro and Dalamar.
Head: Raven Giovanni — "Treasurer of the Empire"
The 15th of March. The day of his wedding to Fike Lamagro. She waited at the altar. In a white dress. With a bouquet of tenroses. With hope in her eyes. Raven didn't come. He vanished — without words, without explanation, without farewell. For eighteen years, Fike ruled two Houses. Then Raven returned, as suddenly as he disappeared. No one knows where he was. Giovanni specializes in illusion magic, finance, and trade. They control the currency of all Aetherium — the Auric. Their silence is worth more than gold.
Heads: Brothers Pavel & Alexander Lugat — "Keepers of the Frozen Heart"
Two people. One title. One will. Dispassionate. Methodical. Incredibly dangerous. Lugat specializes in medicine, poisons, assassinations, and cryomancy — the magic of ice. They heal with the same precision with which they kill. Discipline is the highest virtue. Emotions are a luxury they do not allow themselves. Their citadels are in the style of Russian Empire architecture — monumental, cold, perfectly symmetrical. With Lugat you don't negotiate. You make deals. And you honor every term. Always.
Notable: Fike Lamagro (born Fike Saver) — first hybrid of the Saver line
Once there was a human kingdom. Small. Not the richest. Not the most powerful. But it had knights — the Saver Dynasty. Hereditary protectors. Warriors whose honor was worth more than life. When the First Catastrophe came, most fled. The Savers stayed. Protected those who could not protect themselves. The Charred Council saw this and remembered. They offered the Savers a pact: become the Council's enforcers, receive power, immortality, the ability to protect not one world but dozens. Savers do not participate in political intrigue. They protect. Their word is a synonym for honor. Their oath is unbreakable. Devised: "We Are the Shield of the Helpless."
The first chosen ones of the Charred Council. The first Lord-Riders. Once the most influential family in the history of Aetherium. Their floating fortress "The Cradle" was a wonder of engineering and magic, hidden in the streams of time, invisible.
Malcolm Sionaret — the first Rider chosen not by right of blood, but by pure genius. A human among vampires and angels. The Council's favorite. During the Third Catastrophe, he not only failed his mission but through his actions worsened the catastrophe. 127,000 deaths. Several worlds destroyed completely.
Malcolm declared war on the Council. The War of the Crimson Veil lasted three years. The fortress "The Cradle" was destroyed. Malcolm Sionaret was executed. The dynasty was completely annihilated, erased from all realities. The artificial race he created — the Sions — was enslaved.
There is a place in Aetherium where eternal night meets neon light. Where Gothic gargoyles look down on holographic signs. Where contracts are made in ancient cathedrals and futuristic skyscrapers simultaneously.
You step out of the portal and for a moment lose the ability to speak. Before you stretches a megapolis that should not exist. Skyscrapers of glass and steel pierce the sky — hundreds of floors reflecting the violet-golden glow of the Empyrean Veil. But their peaks are crowned with stone gargoyles the size of houses. Gothic spires. Flying buttresses.
As if someone took a medieval cathedral and grew a modern city from it. Neon signs in dozens of languages. Magic runes pulsing blue and purple. Holographic advertisements floating between buildings. Amber light of ancient lanterns in narrow alleys.
In the very heart of the city stands the first building. The oldest. The most important. A colossal Gothic construction of black stone. Spires rising hundreds of meters. Stained-glass windows the size of buildings depict the history of the five Houses. The gargoyles at every corner are not decoration — they are guardians. Living. Stone. Immortal.
Inside, five thrones are arranged in a circle. Each for a House head. Equal in height. Equal in grandeur. No one is greater. Here, you cannot lie. The magic of the cathedral makes lies... painful. Every false word cuts the throat like broken glass.
They were created by Malcolm Sionaret two hundred and seventeen years ago. A genius. The first Lord-Rider from among humans. He used the most forbidden of all magics — the magic of life creation. He wanted to create perfect soldiers. Living batteries for his mages. An army that could not be stopped.
The plan failed. The Sions were not born as warriors. They were born... gentle. Fragile. Incapable of violence. Their magic could only protect, heal, help.
All Sions are male. All appear eighteen years old. Forever. Strikingly beautiful — not by accident. Malcolm created them as perfection. Fragile build. Tall but very slender. Refined faces. Usually silver, platinum, or ash-colored hair. Porcelain skin. Almost translucent. Without blemish. Their bodies self-restore, leaving no scars.
Sions are not programmed. They are not robots. They have personalities. Emotions. Desires. Fears. But their nature was shaped by creation magic.
Incapacity for violence. They cannot intentionally harm a living being. Physically incapable. If forced to try — they experience unbearable pain and fall into a stupor. This is built into them at the level of instinct.
Innate empathy. They feel the emotions of those around them keenly. Others' pain is almost like their own. They don't read minds, but they sense mood, intention, sincerity. This makes them ideal servants — but also leaves them defenseless against cruelty.
Longing for attachment. Sions crave connection. Closeness. Not necessarily romantic — simply to matter to someone. To feel valued not as an instrument, but as a person. In captivity this is distorted — they attach to masters even through pain. Stockholm syndrome as an innate trait.
A tradition. A ritual. For the Council — a way to control the population of wild Sions. For the Lord-Riders — a reward, a right, an entertainment. For Sions — a nightmare. Wild Sions who form communities on drifting Refuge islands are hunted. Killing and maiming is forbidden. The Sion is a valuable asset. But the rules say nothing about psychological trauma.
A magico-biological process creating a permanent master-slave symbiosis. Conducted through forced, magically charged physical union. This energy does not feed. It invades. Restructures the very essence of the Sion. Burns away any remaining resistance. Forms a permanent psychic and energetic bond. The resulting Brand of Possession — a unique invisible seal — allows the master to track health, location, emotional state from any distance. A remote tracking device. And an off switch.
A perfect rhombus-shaped tablet of translucent crimson crystal. It pulses with a faint, sinister inner light. Resembles a heartbeat. When administered to a Sion, it burns away bright happy memories, forces them to relive their worst fears in a painful loop, then implants artificial neural pathways: "Disobedience equals pain. Your purpose is to serve. The master's will is your only comfort." Repeated use leads to permanent psychological damage. The Sion becomes a silent, broken shell functioning on pure fear.
When people say "Aetherium," most imagine the Isle of Eternal Night. Vampire dynasties. Shadow City. The Ashen Lands where the Council sits. But that is only the center. The main hub. The anchoring point.
In reality, Aetherium is a multiverse. An enormous network of interconnected realities, parallel dimensions, isolated pocket worlds. Hundreds. Perhaps thousands. Each with its own rules. Its own magic. Its own history. And — strangest of all — its own flow of time.
One hour in the main Aetherium equals eighteen days in the Shroud. While one night passes in the Shadow City, an entire year changes in the Shroud.
The Shroud is isolated. A single great continent. Seven kingdoms. Free city-states. Hereditary monarchies. It resembles an ordinary medieval fantasy world. Almost. No vampires. No demons. No angels. No dragons. No Sions. No Lord-Riders. No Charred Council. Only humans.
The Shroud is surrounded by the Curtain — an unusual magical barrier that naturally repels attempts to penetrate it. Portals can be opened with sufficient magical force, but the Curtain resists. Scientists believe the Shroud was deliberately isolated centuries ago, possibly during the War of the Crimson Shroud.
One of the seven great kingdoms of the Shroud. A prosperous state. Fertile river valleys. Protected mountain ranges. A rigid social structure: the royal family at the top, nobility below, merchant guilds controlling trade. Illegitimate children of the nobility live in a strange suspended state — educated and with minor privileges, but forever denied true acceptance or inheritance rights. Political assassinations are the norm.
Fifteen years ago (Shroud time), the world changed. The Plague came. Not an ordinary disease. Distorted, unnatural creatures came with it, killing without distinction. Cities fell one by one. Even strong kingdoms like Valandor were on the brink of collapse. Origin remains a mystery — possibly leaked through the Curtain from main Aetherium. The Plague ended as mysteriously as it began. But the Shroud changed forever. Whole regions remain abandoned. Ruins teeming with monsters.
The Charred Council is the supreme authority. Its decisions are binding for all inhabitants of Aetherium. The Council holds veto power over any decision of local rulers.
| Offense | Penalty |
|---|---|
| Unsanctioned conversion of a mortal (1st offense) | 100,000 Aurics + 200 years imprisonment |
| Repeated conversion of a mortal | Stripping of magical essence |
| Attack on a Lord-Rider | Immediate death sentence |
| Disobedience to Council decisions | 1,000,000 Aurics or exile |
| Violation of neutrality in Shadow City (1st offense) | 50,000 Aurics + memory erasure |
| Violation of neutrality (2nd offense) | Stripping of magical abilities |
| Violation of neutrality (3rd offense) | Life imprisonment |
| Unsanctioned creation, destruction, or transfer of Sions | Council sanctions — classified severity |
Between Luminael and Emberfall. Annually renewed under Council supervision. 50 km demilitarized zone. Military observer exchange.
All 5 vampire clans of the Isle of Eternal Night. Collective defense of island territory. Unified command under the elected Military Council of Five.
All states of Aetherium. Prohibits creation of reality-distorting weapons and temporal manipulators. Random Council inspections at any research facility.
All Sions are property of the Charred Council. Usage rights granted exclusively to Lord-Riders. Wild Sions subject to mandatory seizure.
The currency of all Aetherium — the Auric. Sole issuer: House Giovanni. The Central Bank: "The Golden Vault" in the Shadow City. Reserves: 40% magically purified gold, 60% magical artifacts. The exchange rate is recalculated daily by the Charred Council. You can go to sleep as a millionaire and wake up as a pauper.
| Resource | Source | Price | Application |
|---|---|---|---|
| Dvomerite | Ashen Lands (70%) | 1,000 Aurics / kg | Anti-magic armor, prison bars, portal stabilizers |
| Ether Quartz | Pinnacle of Progress (85%) | 800 Aurics / kg | Communication devices, far-sight |
| Black Ice | House Lugat | 5,000 Aurics / kg | Medicine (cryopreservation), construction |
| Death Essence | Dalamar Necropolises | 10,000 Aurics / ml | Classified. Monthly Council inventory. |
| Living Crystal | Crystallized Sions | From 50,000 Aurics / carat | Council-exclusive. Weapons. Artifacts. Staff cores. |