"As the sky turns, the frequencies bend.
And yet, I am not dizzy."
When Selunaris enters its peak fullness, the dream barriers across Atheria completely thin. Oneiroi weavers can anchor their starlight creations with much less cognitive strain, though the risk of accidental emotional projection skyrockets for the sensitive.
Under the purple light of Veyra, the world is draped in a perpetual glamour. Mindweavers and illusionists find their craft carries a heavy, physical density, allowing shadows to mimic true form so flawlessly that even the Gendarmes' traditional wards can be fooled.
Kalthyr governs the deep secrets and unyielding histories. When its ashen face fills the sky, the gates of the underworld thin and spirits walk freely. Spoken truths carry an undeniable, acoustic weight, making it impossible to soften harsh realities or hide systemic deceit.