Whispering Mountains

Jagged and merciless, the Whispering Mountains rise like a wall of shadow at Cerulle’s eastern edge. Few dare the ascent, for the winds here do not merely howl, they speak. Voices seep from the stone, carrying in forgotten tongues, fragments of prophecy, and the remnants of oaths once broken. Travelers claim the whispers claw at the mind, planting secrets that are not theirs to know, and truths they would rather forget.

It is said these mountains are a graveyard for seers, their voices bound eternally into the stone. Some whisper that the peaks were scarred during the Second Great War, when the fabric of time was torn, trapping echoes of what was, what is, and what may yet come. Others believe the mountains are alive, listening, remembering, waiting.

At their highest summit stands Soothsayers Keep, a black spire of impossible stone with no doors, no windows, only a breathing crack in the rock that admits those chosen by fate. Within its cavernous halls dwell the twin oracles, Arello and Orella: siblings bound by magic older than kingdoms. Arello sees the shape of what will come, visions of futures that fracture and bleed with every choice. Orella sees the truth of what has already been, peeling away history’s lies to reveal the bones beneath.

Together, they are said to be the Murmuri incarnate, the voice of the mountains given flesh. To stand before them is to be stripped bare of illusion, for time itself bends at their touch. Yet the oracles are no comfort. Their words are riddles, their prophecies edged with sacrifice. It is whispered that no one leaves Soothsayers Keep unchanged, for the mountains always exact a toll.

Among the Fae of the Cloud, the Whispering Mountains are both feared and revered. They are a place of answers, but also of unraveling—a reminder that truth, like wind, can cut as deep as any blade.