Inspired by the fiction writing topic part of my Creative Writing module (and my love for the narration and dialogue in Divinity: Original Sin 2), I wanted to apply my writing abilities to my main module in order to better describe my world. The descriptions below are not concrete and details are subject to changes.

Limbo
Limbo is the in-between realm where the soul resides after experiencing a traumatic death or significant loss. It serves as a purgatory, a place of waiting or stagnation where one must confront the unresolved stages of grief before moving on, either back to life or to the afterlife. This realm is caught between worlds — a place where time, colour, and solidity all feel suspended in uncertainty. The moment you enter Limbo, you are greeted with a muted, dreamlike atmosphere that feels neither fully alive nor entirely dead. This space exists as a hazy, shifting reflection of your inner world, transitioning alongside you as you journey through grief. You are the Keeper.

Limbo is bathed in gentle, desaturated colours; soft blues, silvery greys, and pale purples. Everything seems slightly blurred, as if viewed through a light mist or veil, evoking a sense of quiet melancholy. Splashes of richer colours, like dusky greens and fading pinks, are present but faint, giving the impression of life muted by grief. Light in Limbo is dim but soft, as if coming from an endless twilight. A faint, ethereal glow illuminates the area, though there’s no clear source. This light fades in patches, sometimes creating shadows that shift and move. The terrain feels incomplete, as though portions of it are missing or eroded by time. The ground is uneven, with stone pathways that lead nowhere or half-formed pillars and arches that drift off into mist. Patches of grass and small, delicate flowers occasionally dot the area, but they are sparse and slightly transparent, as if the space itself lacks solidity.

At the centre of Limbo stands a single tree. The tree is both timeless and ever-changing, connected to the journey of its Keeper - the one who must traverse through grief and the gradual steps toward healing. At first sight, the tree appears withered and ghostly. Its bark is pale, with a soft glow that flickers in and out like dying embers. Thin, brittle branches reach skyward, devoid of leaves, giving it a skeletal, fragile appearance that mirrors the initial emotional state — stripped bare, raw, and vulnerable. The tree’s roots stretch into the ground but appear fractured, as if they’re only half-connected to the earth below. These roots drift in and out of visibility, tied to a world only half-formed. Over time, the tree subtly responds to the progress of the Keeper. Small buds of colour begin to dot its branches, tiny leaves unfurling one by one. As you move toward acceptance, the tree’s bark regains warmth, shifting from silvery grey to deeper shades of brown and green, becoming lush and grounded. By the end, the tree stands tall and vibrant, a symbol of resilience and renewal.

Denial
The entrance to Denial stands like a mirage, barely visible at the edge of Limbo. Stepping through, the you are swallowed by a maze of winding corridors and towering stone walls, stretching endlessly in every direction. These walls are etched with fragments of memories, images that flicker in and out, offering glimpses of a happier time — moments of laughter, warmth, a life undisturbed. But each time you reach out, the images dissolve into the cold, unyielding stone, leaving only emptiness in their wake.

The labyrinth feels timeless, like it has existed forever. Light filters through narrow cracks above, casting fractured beams that bend and shift, making every turn look the same. Shadows dance across the floor, creating illusions that hint at hidden exits or familiar faces around the next corner. But every path circles back upon itself, leading nowhere. The air is thick, muffling sound, as if even reality itself resists intruding here.

Occasionally, whispers echo through the corridors, soft but insistent, urging you to stay, to linger in this half-formed world. “Turn back,” the voices seem to say, gentle but firm. “There is no need to go further.” The maze seems alive, reshaping itself to draw the protagonist away from any exit, from any hint of progression, locking them in a cycle of endless return.

Despite the familiar glimpses, the air holds an emptiness — a gnawing hollowness beneath the surface beauty. The labyrinth is an endless reflection of what once was, but can no longer be, clinging to fragments that keep you trapped in a perpetual beginning. Here, in Denial, they are suspended between past and present, with no way forward, no way to confront what truly lies beyond these walls. That is, until you stumble upon the exit...

Anger
Crossing into Anger feels like plunging into a furnace. The air is thick and stifling, filled with heat that claws at the skin, leaving an acrid taste in the back of the throat. Jagged cliffs and fractured ground stretch across the landscape, painted in deep reds and charred blacks, as if the earth itself has been scorched by fury. A blood-red sky churns overhead, clouds roiling in dark, angry spirals, and forks of lightning split the air with a blinding, jagged intensity, casting harsh shadows that flicker like a heartbeat.

The land is in constant, restless motion. Rivers of molten rock snake through the valleys, bubbling and hissing as they carve their way through stone. Every so often, the ground quakes violently, cracking open to reveal fresh scars of lava that spill out in wild, fiery streams. The cliffs and pillars rise and fall in uneven, towering shapes, their surfaces covered in rough, splintered rock that seems to bristle like an animal’s fur, daring anyone to approach.

Gale-force winds whip through the canyons, the constant, low rumble of the earth itself, and a roar that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, an unrelenting scream echoing through the land. Here, silence is impossible; the world itself seems to howl in pain and frustration.

Each step feels harder here, as if the very ground resists movement, dragging at the feet, demanding a struggle. The path is littered with obstacles — walls that erupt in flames, thorned vines that lash out when approached, and creatures that attack with a viciousness fuelled by their own anger. Every challenge demands raw force, as if the only way forward is to push through with equal ferocity.

This is a place that demands release, a world where rage is alive, smouldering and crackling in every shadow. There is no rest here, no softness — only the relentless, unforgiving pulse of fury, daring you to push onward, or be consumed.

Bargaining
Stepping into the realm of Bargaining feels like entering a palace built on promises and half-truths. The throne room stretches before you in vast, glittering splendour, filled with treasures piled high against walls of polished marble veined with gold. Columns encrusted with gemstones line the hall, catching every flicker of torchlight. The floor is laid with tiles so intricately patterned they look like woven fabric. Everything here gleams with an unnatural richness, drawing the eye in with an almost hypnotic allure.

In the centre of the chamber sits a towering throne, draped in rich silks and heavy with jewels. But beneath its beauty, there’s an unsettling, hollow quality to it all. The gold feels too bright, the jewels too large, their glimmer strangely cold. There’s a sense that these riches are little more than reflections of what they promise to be — symbols without substance.

As you step forward, a figure appears on the throne: Bargaining. Draped in robes of velvet and adorned with rings, chains, and a crown encrusted with precious stones, Bargaining exudes an air of authority and assurance. They lean forward, hands steepled, eyes glinting with a keen intelligence that verges on predatory. Their expression is warm, almost inviting, a smile tugging at the corners of their mouth, yet it feels insincere, as if they’re sizing you up, calculating your worth.

In a voice smooth as silk, Bargaining begins to speak, each word carefully measured, every syllable laced with a tone that makes promises without saying them outright. They ask you for a trade, to surrender your most precious item in exchange for you to continue your passage. Bargaining’s eyes never leave the your face, searching for any sign of weakness, of willingness to yield.

It becomes clear that nothing here can be trusted, that every offer comes with a cost, every deal with a consequence. Yet Bargaining speaks in a voice so reassuring, so certain, that doubt begins to slip away, replaced by a creeping sense of temptation.

“What’s a small price for what you truly want?” they ask, their voice dripping with a sweet, dangerous charm. “Wouldn’t you give anything for just one more chance?”

Depression
The air grows heavy and damp as you step into the realm of Depression, a cavern veiled in shadows and drenched in a deep, oppressive blue. Water drips from the ceiling in a slow, relentless rhythm, echoing off slick walls that shimmer with the faint sheen of moisture. The stone is cold and unyielding, carved in strange, jagged patterns that resemble weeping faces and bowed figures, their forms barely discernible in the dim light.

A thin mist clings to the ground, curling around the your feet, thickening with every step forward. Pools of still water are scattered across the floor, inky black in the faint blue glow, their surfaces smooth and undisturbed. Occasionally, you catch glimpses in these pools — ghostly reflections, distorted images and scenes from happier times — the ripples from their movement erase these memories before they can be fully understood, leaving only an aching emptiness.

The only light here seeps in from somewhere unseen, a cold, pale blue that filters through cracks in the cavern walls, casting faint shadows that waver and fade like the last traces of a fading dream. The light seems to draw away warmth, emphasising the hollow chill that fills the cave. Each breath hangs in the air, visible in the cold, and even the protagonist’s movements feel slow, weighed down as if the very atmosphere resists any effort to press onward.

Every sound — the slow drip of water, the soft scuff of a footstep — echoes back in lonely, endless reverberations, as if the cave itself is empty of all life, an echo chamber for sadness that has lingered here for ages. Occasionally, a distant sigh or faint murmur seems to drift through the darkness, but no source can be found. It’s as though the cave remembers sorrow, the walls etched with grief, endlessly mourning in silence.

Here, in the heart of Depression, everything is still, stagnant, as if waiting for an end that never comes.

Acceptance (disclaimer - Acceptance no longer has its own world area, but I think it's still important to disclose a 'vibe' anyway)

The path to Acceptance opens gently, without walls or barriers, leading you into a vast, quiet expanse bathed in soft, crystal light. The air here is cool and calm, carrying the faintest hint of fresh earth and flowering grass. The space is soaked in soft blues, whites, and pale yellows, their colours warm yet gentle, filling the area with a sense of delicate beauty. The light is neither harsh nor dim, settling evenly over the landscape, casting everything in a glow that feels timeless, peaceful.

Shadows of clouds move slowly across the ground, creating patches of shade that feel soothing rather than ominous, inviting the protagonist to rest.
In the centre of sits a small, clear pool, its surface like glass, perfectly still yet full of depth. Approaching it, you can see your reflection clearly— whole and undisturbed, without the rippling uncertainty of earlier regions. The water carries a faint shimmer, now softened and warm, woven together like a gentle tapestry rather than sharp fragments.

There’s a profound silence here, but not an empty one. It’s a silence that feels full, alive, welcoming — a silence that invites you to breathe deeply, to let go. The weight carried through previous stages seems to lighten, and every breath feels easier, as if the air itself encourages release. Here, in Acceptance, there is a sense of being part of something larger, a place where you can finally pause, look back without pain, and feel a soft peace settle within.

This is not a place of answers or resolution but of balance. A space where loss, love, and memory can coexist without conflict. Here, in the heart of Acceptance, there is no need to push forward or look back. There is only the gentle presence of the moment, a place of quiet harmony, where the you can simply be.