Glymmsforge, the City of Light, is a defiant lantern kindled in the dark heart of the Realm of Death, its pale walls and glowing streets a rebuke to a realm that belongs entirely to the grave. Built atop the Gravesend catacombs and warded by the sacred Shroudguard, it stands upon the Prime Innerlands of Shyish, where every horizon is crowded with the underworlds of the dead.
The city was raised by the Stormcast Eternals, who sank its foundations above ancient vaults and lit its Lighthaven district with cold, holy flame that no revenant can abide. Behind its wards of grave-sand and prayer dwell the living in fragile safety, tending their lamps against the endless night while beyond the ramparts the amethyst wastes seethe with hungry shades.
Yet safety in Shyish is a borrowed thing. Time and again the screaming legions of the Nighthaunt have washed against Glymmsforge's walls in tides of spectral hate, and the schemes of Nagash gnaw ceaselessly at its foundations. The Shyishan Necroquake nearly drowned the city in death-magic, and its garrison knows that every dawn is a small victory wrung from a realm that will one day claim them all. Still the Lightbeacons burn, and Glymmsforge endures as proof that even in the land of the dead, hope may be made to shine.
The atlas continues
