Writ of Justice Eightfold
In the center is the Prime Material Plane, called Home for reasons long lost to mythology, co-extant with the Feywilde and the Shadowfell.
Above the three material planes can be found the great Astral Sea where most of the gods make their domains. Below the planes is the Elemental Chaos and its warped center that was twisted into the Abyss.
Pushing and prying against the edges of all these planes of creation and occasionally seeping through is the un-making madness of the Far Realms.
Although it lacks a physical existence that perhaps prevents it from being called a plane like all the others, the Dreaming Lands are present in all places where conscious beings sleep and dream. Most experience is passively, but the lucky and the trained can sometimes actively engage with these enigmatic realms, and the truly skilled even to use them to travel from consciousness to consciousness.
Nothing else exists, although in the eldritch tomes ensconced in hidden libraries that may or may not be concealed in the furthest reaches of the most ancient dominions there are fearful whispers that perhaps there is a space beyond space and a time outside of time in which a watcher, or perhaps even more than one, curates every nascent moment that has or will ever occur like a midwife in a nursery, intent on ensuring that every instant in history takes place. These same tomes, if they actually existed, would also suggest that the watcher follows an order and direction created by one unknown even to him, a direction precisely inscribed on the outside face of the infinitely vast wall that encompasses creation, and written in the characters of a language that has no script. It is a language that even the entire syllabary of Rayshorin spoken all together would be but the palest glimmer of a reflection.
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