The Universe of the Dominion of the Peaks
In the distant future, humanity survives only at the top of the world it once built. The titanic skyscrapers of a forgotten era still pierce the sky, but their bases have disappeared into an ocean of rubble. On these rooftops, now fertile land, the last humans have rebuilt a civilization: the Dominion of the Peaks, an archipelago of island cities suspended between sky and void.
The Peaks: a vertical world
Life is concentrated exclusively on rooftops and the top floors of buildings. Each building is an autonomous island: crenellated walls reinforced against gusts of wind, watchtowers scanning the aerial horizon, hydroponic greenhouses under recycled glass domes that capture the rare light, vegetable gardens where seeds that are still viable are meticulously cultivated—hardy vegetables, aromatic herbs, and sometimes flowers for morale. The cities stretch across several rooftops connected by suspension bridges of braided rope and rusted steel, creaking walkways that sway in the perpetual wind, or floating platforms anchored by old, patched-up helium balloons.
Height defines everything: the higher you climb, the safer you are... and the more you belong to the elite. The upper terraces offer endless views of the clouds and stars, cleaner air filtered by the prevailing winds, while the lower levels suffer the most violent storms and the long shadows of neighboring structures.
Daily life is a constant struggle against the elements. Rainwater is collected in giant cisterns carved out of the buildings' former reservoirs, filtered and carefully rationed. Howling winds necessitate anchoring rituals: each dwelling is secured with steel cables, and markets are held under reinforced awnings to prevent stalls from flying away. Children grow up learning to walk on vibrating floors, to judge the strength of the wind at a glance, and to dream of airship flights as the ultimate freedom. Ascents between levels are made via stairs carved into concrete or hand-cranked freight elevators, a physical effort that marks both bodies and minds.
The buildings vary as much as the destinies of their inhabitants. Some, like those in the capital city of Aetherion, are opulently restored titans: slender spires, verdant terraces, and air ports teeming with life. Others, isolated on the fringes of the Dominion, are barely habitable ruins, their cracked roofs colonized by nomadic communities that migrate from peak to peak with the seasons. These differences create a contrasting archipelago, where solidarity between neighboring peaks can save a city from famine, but where rivalry for the best locations—those exposed to the sun or protected from storms—fuels ancestral conflicts.
A feudal society in the clouds
The Dominion of the Peaks is a reimagined medieval world.
Lords rule from castles built on the highest terraces, merchants control the large trading platforms, and artisans and peasants live on the middle roofs. Titles are passed down through blood or wealth, alliances are sealed through marriages or trade pacts, and conflicts are sometimes settled through aerial jousting or duels on walkways.
Currency circulates in the form of minted coins, recycled metal ingots, or technological relics. The celebrations are grandiose: festivals with flying lanterns, banquets under the stars, dances on wooden floors stretched out over the void.
Verticality dictates everything, even everyone's place in society. The most powerful occupy the highest terraces, where the air is purer and the winds less treacherous; serfs and workers crowd together on the lower roofs, more exposed to storms and the risk of collapse. This rigid hierarchy generates constant tension: nobles parade in ornate armor and fur capes, while artisans fiercely negotiate their social advancement through trade or the invention of new relics. Laws, proclaimed from the lords' towers, are enforced by knights in leather coats and guards with recycled spears, but justice often remains a matter of power—a won duel can mean promotion, an unpaid debt a fall into oblivion... or worse.
Airships: arteries of the sky
With no roads on the ground, all travel is by air.
Airships are the heart of civilization: small family craft, huge merchant caravans, warships armed with ballistae.
Their hulls are made of wood, salvaged metal, and patched canvas;
their engines purr thanks to relics from before the fall—steam generators, electric propellers, sometimes even miniaturized fusion reactors.
A trip between two cities can take days, punctuated by stops at suspended air relays, where travelers refuel with water, food, and news.
Relics of a lost world
Ancient technology is both a treasure and a mystery.
Rare firearms, rusty automatons, and cracked screens that sometimes display ghost images from the past can still be found.
The most daring—artisans, scholars, or adventurers—attempt to repair them, understand them, and integrate them into everyday life: electric lamps in castles, cable elevators in towers, crackling radios for long-distance messages.
But each relic is precious... and dangerous.
Many no longer work, or work very poorly! But sometimes miracles can happen...
A fragile beauty
The Dominion of the Peaks is a world of harsh and dizzying beauty. Sunsets set the recycled glass of the domes ablaze, transforming the greenhouses into cathedrals of glowing light. The winds carry the songs of the floating markets, the laughter of children running across the walkways, and the deep notes of foghorns signaling the approach of airships. At night, the stars seem closer than anywhere else, as if the void below has brought humanity closer to the cosmos.
This splendor hides an existence suspended above oblivion. Residents often contemplate the infinite horizons from terraces, where poets recite verses about the “dance of the peaks” and lovers engrave their vows on rusted metal plaques. Legends speak of a golden age when buildings still touched the ground, but today, beauty is a constant reminder: every lit lantern, every hanging garden, every billowing sail is a victory over chaos.
Yet this harmony remains precarious. A cable that breaks, a storm that is too strong, a relic that explodes or a bridge that collapses... and everything can change in an instant. The scars are visible everywhere: walkways repaired with new planks, cracked domes hastily patched up, airships with sails patched like wounded wings.
It is a world where humanity has learned to live balanced on the edge of the sky, celebrating light because it knows that darkness is never far away.
