Ghyran, the Realm of Life, is a boundless wilderness of primeval forest, blossoming meadow, and sacred water, where the very soil brims with the jade magic of growth. Its rivers run with healing power, its seasons turn in vast living cycles, and every glade seems to breathe, for Ghyran is less a place than a single immense organism that dreams in green.
The realm was shaped in the Age of Myth by Alarielle the Everqueen, goddess of life, whose Jade Kingdoms flourished in wild splendour. From hidden groves and everspring lakes flowed the waters that would later sustain a hundred parched realms, and the tree-spirit Sylvaneth rose as her children and guardians, warding the deep woods against all defilers.
Then came the Age of Chaos, and with it Nurgle, the Plague God, who coveted Ghyran above all realms. His Maggotkin of Nurgle transformed whole kingdoms into the fly-blown paradise he named his Garden, drowning the forests in rot and pox until Alarielle herself fled into a single seed to escape the corruption. For a span the histories call the realm's death-throes, Ghyran was the Plague God's most treasured garden, its once-clean rivers thick as broth with contagion and its great trees hung heavy with weeping, sweet-rotten fruit, while whole nations of mortals were harvested by the pox or driven mad and set to tend the orchards of their own undoing.
Reborn in wrath, the Everqueen has led the reconquest ever since, and Ghyran is now a realm at war with its own sickness. Sylvaneth wargroves march beside the free cities to burn the plague-orchards back, yet for every glade cleansed another festers, a contest between life and decay that will not end while the Plague God still schemes. Ghyran endures because life, like weeds, is impossible to wholly kill.
The atlas continues
