What Are the Fractured Realms?

They weren’t always broken.

Once, the realms spun together. A living lattice of light, flesh, death, and dream. Mortal worlds like Selestria nestled in Gyah’s embrace. Celestial halls drifted in harmony with the pulse of creation. And yes, even the infernal had its order. Brutal. Transactional. But whole.

Then came the war.

Not the one whispered in ghost theatres or dream-choked cults. I speak of the First Sundering. When the Celestials cast judgment and the Demon Lords refused to kneel. That war burned a hole through the fabric of existence. And from that wound, the realms fell.

I was there when the sky screamed.I held the ink of a name too sacred to speak.And when I chose to love the broken instead of record their ruin, I was cast out.

What Are the Fractured Realms?

The realms you know—Pandemonium, Perdition, the River Below—are not separate worlds. They are shards. Each born from the detonation of a truth too big to contain. They reflect aspects of the original Whole, but each is shaped now by its ruling force: hunger, memory, barter, defiance.

But do not mistake them for stable. Fractures shift. Doors open where they should not. Some scream. Some bleed. And some remember.

Realm Categories, For the Uninitiated

🌍 The Profane Worlds

These are the mortal planes. Earth is one. Broken, unaware, simmering with forgotten pacts. Others exist.

- Selestria, veiled by Gyah, where song guides weather and bones hum with purpose

- The Pale Belt, whose stars never shine the same way twiceWe rarely speak of these. Mortal realms carry their own truths. And their own ghosts.

🔥 The Infernal Shards

- Pandemonium. My second home. Once free, now twisted. Inkmarkets gone quiet. Imps still dream of rebellion

- Perdition. Dust-choked nexus where all roads cross eventually

- Gamorah. Where names are worn like skin and pleasure hides the leash

- The River Below. Drink deep and forget. Or worse, remember someone else’s life instead

🪞 Veil-Wound Realms

- The Mirror Reaches. Where reflection leads to recursion. Identity melts if stared at too long

- Carcossa. Once spoken of in hushed tones by dreamwalkers and Veil scholars, Carcossa is no longer a myth. It has fallen, and in its fall, it has become a beacon of psychic distortion and recursive decay — a place ruled not by time or nature, but by a will wrapped in ruin.

- The Thirteenth Room. If you find it, you already left something behind

👻 The Spectral Lands

- Limbo. A mirror of the Profane world. Death’s bureaucracy. Where memory wears a badge and screams are classified

What Caused the Fracture?

The fracture wasn’t myth. It was war. Not metaphor. Not theater.A war between purity and autonomy. Between unyielding order and unrelenting will.

The Celestials, those distant and terrifying architects, once enforced harmony with blade, song, and something older than law. The Demon Lords rebelled. Or resisted. Or simply refused. I don’t pretend to know which is true anymore.

The Celestial realm was not lost. Just locked. Walled off by silence and threat. We don’t speak its true name. Not here. Not now.If you must refer to it, call it Above. And pray that name doesn’t echo.

And Now?

Now, we live among fragments.

Mortals bleed into infernal pacts.

The dead rise beneath bureaucratic skies.

Dreams spill into alleyways like broken ink.

The Veil flickers.

The walls between shards thin.

There are those—cults, choirs, collectors—who believe the realms can be unified again. That a second script, a second act, a second something will stitch the broken truths together.They may be right.

But reunification isn't always healing. Sometimes it’s infection.

My Final Word?

The Fractured Realms are not story.

They are consequence.

Of power misused.

Of love refused.

Of watching too long and not acting soon enough.

I chose exile to remember.

You chose to read this.

That makes us both complicit now.

— Eizek