The Lingering Echo
You cannot walk the paths of Kuwagel Flurpenstien, for it has no paths. It is not a place on a map, but a memory of magic itself, an echo of a time before the world settled into its shape. To perceive it is to see the color of a forgotten dream, to hear the sound of a silent star. It is a realm of crystal forests that grow from light and fungal towers that chime with unheard music.
Ecleptor Remnants
They who wove this realm have folded space like parchment, writing their final words on the inside of reality. The Ecleptors, beings of pure magic, have retreated from the physical world into this sanctuary. It is not a city, but a library of their consciousness. They do not live here; they simply *are* here, their thoughts and power infused into every shimmering mote of dust.
The Unseen Path
There is no door to Kuwagel Flurpenstien. There is only the Portal in Hubland, a wound left by their departure. It is a doorway that is not a doorway, a key that is also a question. To seek this realm is to chase your own shadow into the sun, to ask a question that has no answer in any spoken tongue. Entry is not for the traveler, but for the one who understands that some places can only be reached by standing still.