Earth, 1000 BCE. Human civilization had just begun to achieve heretofore unreached heights. The Egyptians, the Olmecs, the Babylonians, the Chinese. A race of divine beings had been subtly guiding and protecting humankind during their formative years, and a small but vocal minority of these beings now believed that humankind was ready to take their place in the cosmos. They argued that humanity should be given the secrets of the universe, and take their rightful place among the stars. They were overruled.
But one dissenting voice defied this judgement, and gave humankind the literal Keys to Creation, and with them one all-important guiding principle: Do not use the Black Key. Humanity did not listen.
All of reality was turned inside out. The burning heart of the world became the bright white, unending sky, and the unknowable depths of space became a vast, star-filled sea beneath. Entire continents now float in the space between, with a moon or sun to guide them.
Now, three thousand years later. The fractured remains of humanity cling to the shattered remnants of a broken world. The know nothing of their earthly origins. This is all they have ever known: Floating mountains are the norm. Intelligent bird-people teach letters to the children of the elite. Moss-being pray to trees in the dark depths of unknown forests. Monks make spirit bonds with snow monkeys in ice-shrouded temples. Unknown pleasures are traded like spice and coin by masked revelers. Huge centipedes seek enlightenment while shepherding their flocks upon sand-blasted expanses. People of all kinds work and play and trade in the streets of the flying metropolis of Haark, while criminals die hanging in the chains beneath.
But there exist a few who yearn to be part of something larger. They know in their hearts that he world is not quite right, like a dream from which they hope to wake. They are called Skyborn, and they have the strange ability to consciously manipulate the light from above, using it to fuel remarkable powers.
In a world which was never meant to be, these Skyborn were destined for something greater. Only they can rise to become heroes beneath the neverending Overlight.
But one dissenting voice defied this judgement, and gave humankind the literal Keys to Creation, and with them one all-important guiding principle: Do not use the Black Key. Humanity did not listen.
All of reality was turned inside out. The burning heart of the world became the bright white, unending sky, and the unknowable depths of space became a vast, star-filled sea beneath. Entire continents now float in the space between, with a moon or sun to guide them.
Now, three thousand years later. The fractured remains of humanity cling to the shattered remnants of a broken world. The know nothing of their earthly origins. This is all they have ever known: Floating mountains are the norm. Intelligent bird-people teach letters to the children of the elite. Moss-being pray to trees in the dark depths of unknown forests. Monks make spirit bonds with snow monkeys in ice-shrouded temples. Unknown pleasures are traded like spice and coin by masked revelers. Huge centipedes seek enlightenment while shepherding their flocks upon sand-blasted expanses. People of all kinds work and play and trade in the streets of the flying metropolis of Haark, while criminals die hanging in the chains beneath.
But there exist a few who yearn to be part of something larger. They know in their hearts that he world is not quite right, like a dream from which they hope to wake. They are called Skyborn, and they have the strange ability to consciously manipulate the light from above, using it to fuel remarkable powers.
In a world which was never meant to be, these Skyborn were destined for something greater. Only they can rise to become heroes beneath the neverending Overlight.
