Far to the north of Heskin and Tharn lies a small collection of islands collectively known as Ingil. No one has set foot on them. No one has mapped more than the outermost edges. A perpetual storm enshrouds the archipelago—natural wind and rain tangled with wild magic that tears at anything attempting passage.
On rare occasions, when the storm thins, glimpses have been caught from a distance: mountains of glass catching the light, coastal forests of glittering black trees, and massive shapes moving through the seas between the islands. Whether beasts, constructs, or something else entirely, no one can say.
Ingil remains untouched, unexplored, and utterly inhospitable. Whether it holds answers to Thaedros's mysteries or simply more dangers, only the storm knows.
Content in development.