Golden words shimmered across the skies like etched light carved into the firmament, their message a beacon for any who still clung to the fragile weave of destiny.
[Outsiders threaten the livelihoods of many both inside and outside this Plane of Existence. To Humans. To Ancients. The Adrastia Continent provides sanctuary and protection to fight against what is already here and what is coming. Follow the grandeur of gold, and you will find that sanctuary.]
They flared with sacred prominence across every land that held life.
And everywhere, golden auroras surged forth in ribbons that stretched across the skies.
In a distant sky far above the floating sea of broken dreams and the drifting bones of dead stars, a lone vessel stirred.
It was not a ship in the traditional sense, but a vast floating landmass. One mile in length, teeming with forests of stardust-petaled flowers and rivers of white flame.
The Vessel of Adrastia.
And atop it, the Monkey King sat.
Sun.
