The Sundrown Wilds

The Sundrown Wilds lie between Ghur and Ghyran, claimed by neither. It is a vast, sentient forest—asleep and dreaming. And in the same way someone’s dream bends to the noises in the room, the forest reshapes itself according to what it hears.

In the Wilds, repetition takes root. What is said often enough begins to become true. A warband convinced it is hunting a monster may find one waiting. A ruin described with certainty may appear, intact and in the right place. A city feared into existence may outlast the memory of the one that came before it.

These changes are not symbolic. They are physical. Maps lose meaning, histories collapse into the present tense, and the Wilds do not remember what happened; they respond to what is repeated. If a thing is not reinforced through story, it fades—not into ruin, but as if it had never been there at all.

Some stories settle more deeply. A name may vanish, but the shape of the tale remains. A buried village may rise again, its name lost, its people changed, but its rhythm intact. The forest does not care whether something is true. It keeps what is told often enough to hold.