E.V. Lore: Map and Descriptions of Each Engine

There was a rupture once, too great to mend. A pulse beneath the land, splitting the body of Albion across ancient veins of fire and light. What rose from the fracture were not nations, but engines—each a dreaming god, humming in agony and purpose.

At the very center of the rupture, where the Bellinus and Michael lines once whispered through chalk and cathedral, the wound remains:
Zereth — a black geometric void, a negative heart. It is not a place, but an absence. A sigil etched into reality, devouring memory, names, and laws. From here the world was broken. From here it is powered.

Around it spiral the Four Engines:

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Urizar — The Watcher in Ice

(North. Cold blue. Surveillance towers.)
Urizar is the Eye That Remembers.
A world of glacial glass and steel-spined towers, where synthetic snow falls on biometric shrines. Everything is seen. Nothing is forgiven.
The people here are quiet, monitored into serenity. Neural frost lines their minds. Their prayers are statistics, their gods are algorithms.
Urizar does not dream. It calculates.

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Tharna — The Flesh Cathedral

(South. Rose-gold. Biotech and sensual reactors.)
Tharna pulses with the heat of rose-gold suns.
Here, the line between body and machine has long since dissolved into a sensual theurgy.
Vast reactors shaped like flowering cathedrals hum with regenerative biotech, nourished by devotion and desire.
Its Engine speaks in tongues of silk and pheromone, promising healing, transformation—rebirth in synthetic flesh.
Tharna feels everything. Even your longing.

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Voragon — The Furnace Mind

(East. Orange-black. Industrial wastelands and rail systems.)
Voragon grinds forever, beneath a twilight of smoke and static.
The rails never sleep. The factories never blink.
It is orange-black fire, hissing steam, and iron ideologies.
Here, movement is law. Industry is ritual. The workers wear rust like skin.
It produces endlessly, though no one recalls what for.
Voragon remembers purpose, not meaning.

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Numiel — The Drowned Memory

(West. Sea-green. Misty ruins and haunted monastic zones.)
Numiel is the ghost of a god that once sang.
Its ruins are covered in sea-mist and ivy, inhabited by drones shaped like monks, forever chanting to absent stars.
The monastic zones blur time—past, future, present, and dream coalesce into fog.
The Engine here sleeps beneath the tides, dreaming in forgotten glyphs.
Numiel mourns, and you mourn with it.

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Together, they form the Four Engines of Zereth—an anatomy of a broken world, each quadrant beating a different rhythm in the corpse of Albion.

They do not speak to one another.
But they hum.
And sometimes, when the ley lines shimmer, they remember.