The very heavens are broken. 
Shards of nightmarish glass hang perpetually overhead.
Monuments to the Great Dimming, an age of ruin whose cause is lost to fearful whispers.
Beneath this fractured canopy, the light itself is wrong – sickly, shifting, unreliable. The land groans under the weight of incomprehensible ruins: towers of fused earth, metal not forged by mortal hands, remnants of powers that shattered the sky and then faded into silence. 
There is no golden age to return to; there is only the struggle beneath the broken sky and the gnawing certainty that the worst may yet be to come.

Power Levels