"The gates to other worlds are hidden in the shadow of the soul; only those who know the secret words can unlock them." - John Dee

The universe teams with numberless worlds, but at cosmic distances each is an island, impossibly distant from every other. Without Portals, Earth would be imprisoned within the cruel bonds of the Veil, its human population kept from magic. Fortunately for all, someone forged the portals.

None can say who first constructed the portals, though many will claim authoritative answers. The one fact that seems certain is that their creators must have dwelt on Earth or Middara, because none connects to any other destination.

Perhaps ancient mystics walked forbidden ways, or the first portal was opened for Cane when he was forever marked for the murder of his brother. Maybe some other race willed them into existence, luring humans away from our perfect sphere and into Middara’s corrupting embrace.

Whatever the forbidden truth, no living soul knows how to open new ones. Those hoping for another link to Earth must discover an existing portal. Most of these appear in ruins of incredible antiquity, often showing signs of use by beings who weren’t even human. Every portal is an object of incredible worth, utterly essential for the survival of civilization in Middara.

To approach a portal is to stand before a crack in reality. Light spills forth from a realm beyond. To approach is to view a paradox—a portal is a void, somehow formed of only one dimension. Approach closely enough to touch, and the portal yawns wide, expanding tall enough to swallow any soul who draws too close. There is no corridor within—one faltering step, and each passenger is consumed utterly.

Despite the otherworldly mystery of these incredible openings, long use has revealed some truths of their function. Each has exactly one opening on earth, and another on Middara, bound in space. No means exist to move them, though forbidden magic might be used to seal them. No human faction would want to do that—portals are finite. Once all are closed, humanity on Middara will wither and die.

A portal cannot be photographed, recorded, or otherwise observed by sensors. Likewise, most Espers intelligent enough to speak also do not seem to recognize their presence. Only physical creatures see them. A portal is not a machine; it’s a one-dimensional crack, one that extends approximately two meters in length. When seen straight on, faint light seems to emanate from within, though this light will not fall on nearby objects or cast shadows.

Most portals are surrounded by elaborate ornaments, and adornments, but none of these are connected to its operation. Many have ramps or staircases leading to them for ease of access.

Inanimate matter cannot pass through portals on its own, be it the diffuse atmosphere around it or an army of Boston Dynamics drones. Only when in contact with a living creature—human, animal, or otherwise, can the inanimate pass through. Clothing, weapons, anything in roughly equal mass to the person or animal entering the portal, will be brought along.

Any physical matter brought through a portal will not make it out the other exit, this is where Rooms come in. All who use portals regularly are aware of this fact, and civilization has broadly abandoned the idea of trading anything other than ideas and lives between worlds.

Portals are painless to use, so much so that many have traveled by accident. Travelers describe the sensation as a light brush of silk against the skin, almost imperceptible. Likewise, portals have no gravity compelling someone to travel across once contact is made. It’s possible to change your mind and retreat from a portal until the instant you pass through.

No single factor has a greater impact on the civilizations of Middara than the Portals. These rare openings create civilizations wherever they appear, lush springs of life in a desert that has never felt the touch of rain. No earth creature can reproduce on Middara, so every human would be the end of their lineage were it not for the portals.

Where portals open, humans may return to earth, braving Angels for a chance to have children. Others may fill their ranks in other ways, inviting friends, family, and clan to pass through to Middara. Earth is filled with cultures and myths of other worlds and the tempting figures who might lure the unwary to parts unknown, never to return. Turns out, all these stories were true.

Most trace their first settlers to a single group of initial explorers, who passed through the portal before bringing in others. For this reason, most nations began as a unified cultural and demographic force, bound by common belief and history.

When the trader examines a map of Middara, it’s easy to make an educated guess about where a given portal must connect. Often, the Middaran civilization will outlast its Earth progenitor, as their people don’t age.

No explorer has yet found any portal on Earth that does not lead to Middara. For whatever reason, the ancients capable of constructing these wonders focused exclusively on these two worlds. The same might not be true for Middara itself—many accounts exists of travelers who have ventured to other realms, and some claim they passed through a portal on the way.

Anywhere lore of the creators of portals exists, intense investigation is sure to follow. No single piece of information would secure the wealth of a nation more than the ability to recreate what the ancients did. Yet despite centuries of effort, no nation is any closer to creating portals. Maybe we never will.

Elenia’s initial explorers came from the marginalized populations of a dozen nations. Though its founding families came from Brahma, others wandered from further afield. Once its portal was discovered, the initial settlers were rapidly outnumbered by those traveling through from Seattle, Washington.

Yet as Elenia continues to cement itself as an independent nation, so too does it reduce the flow of immigration through its portal. To bring too many people is to invite angelic attention. All fear the flaming sword of angelic justice. Where they turn their baleful eyes, harbingers die and beloved children are lost, never to be recovered.

Another terror looms, almost unimaginably horrible: what if an angel discovered the location of Elenia’s portal?

Most are confident that angels had nothing to do with the construction of portals. Where they find them, they often seal the portals with their incredible power, forever severing a vital link between worlds. In the worst possible cases, they instead elect to travel through portals. When this has happened, the nation on the other side rarely survives.

The exact location of each portal is a vital secret, though its general correspondence on earth can’t be easily hidden. All in Brahma know their portal opens into Hong Kong. Likewise Kladivent’s portal opens in Algeciras, Spain. Other nations rely on portals in Busan, Rome, and Nijmegen.

Discovering the corresponding portal on Middara is a trivial endeavor. Without fail, nations build their capitals around these objects. The flow of children and immigration is central to the survival of any civilization, and so will inevitably be surrounded with the most impressive defenses that nation can construct. The further any country can expand around its portal, the safer it is from capture by its enemies.

Where portals open, nations have something to offer. Almost every Middaran will desire children at some point, be they natural or adopted. Either way, a country that can offer this reward is one that can secure loyalty in its populace.

The scarcity and critical nature of portals invites abuse by all who have them. Some might find it remarkable that any portals survive to present day, given how ruthlessly Angels hunt and destroy them.

Fortunately for Middara, many of the first humans to travel through a portal felt the same way. In a year so far into the past it is not measured, an order was founded to protect these Portals: Tetragramaton. This group endured across numberless years, until its ironclad laws bound every portal on the planet.

This order predates every surviving nation, and many of its laws have not changed since those first days. Its agents reach anywhere a portal may be found, giving demands to every power who opens a new portal. To defy them is certain death—sometimes for the arrogant rules, sometimes for a country. Their members are whispered to be as old as the organization itself, wielding the power of entire armies.

Fortunately for everyone, the Tetragrammaton is not interested in conquest. This ancient organization has a single goal: to protect and preserve the connection between Middara and Earth.

This ancient body will not prevent a nation from selling, exploiting, or otherwise making use of its portal to enrich itself. It will not enforce any kind of moral or ethical concerns. Every law governs safety, marking the way a nation can keep their portal from angelic discovery. There are rules for how Harbingers must be trained, rules for how angelic activity should be reported, and limits on travel in both directions.

Though these rules are complex, all boil down to the same goal: prevent Angels and their Loyalists from discovering the location of a portal, even at the cost of human life. Harbingers know the risks of their duty and must be willing to fall to angelic blades rather than divulge what they know.

Within these bounds, the Tetragrammaton will take no other action against a nation. They will typically have informants and spies around every active portal and are quick to appear when any country grows bold enough to abuse their gateway. After a long history of failed attempts to destroy the Tetragrammaton, most nations accept their rules and obey.

Without the portals, there would be no Middaran nations, no knowledge of the magical disciplines or hints at worlds beyond the bounds of Earth. Despite their incredible contributions, proof of their original creators remains hidden. No definitive evidence of their identity has ever been discovered. So all Middara wonders: who built them, and why?

The Faulkists have one answer, insisting that the portals were created by divine will. They liken them to the Tree of Knowledge, Eden’s forbidden fruit. God placed portals on Earth to tempt man with eternal life, just as the serpent once successfully beguiled our first parents. To Faulkism, Middara is a fallen realm, and all its people in need of redemption from the divine. All who pass through a portal fail this test of faith and suffer a second fall.

Where Faulkism holds less sway, another theory is most popular: the Bodhisattvas. In this interpretation, portals were creations of enlightened humans, possibly even the Buddha or his students. Knowing that most humans would forget their path through reincarnation, he instead created portals as a way for humans to live long enough to achieve Enlightenment in one lifetime. Many optimists hold to this theory, since it implies a modern Bodhisattva could create more portals.

A third answer, prominent among less religious nations, is a naturalistic explanation. In this view, an ancient race predating humanity built the portals for some long-lost purpose. Portals are thus artifice of unknown science, or magical disciplines that simply have not be rediscovered yet. What became of the original builders varies—perhaps they were slaughtered by angels, or maybe they just discovered Earth was occupied and turned their attention elsewhere. All that matters is that they left their portals to us.

Many continue to hunt for the truth. Even a tangential connection to the secrets of portals might one day lead to rediscovering how they were made. Likewise, the search continues for any undiscovered doorway forgotten in the hoary mysteries of the ancient past.

Middara is vast, and land can change. Rivers and mountains might swallow what were once thriving ports of trade between worlds. All it takes is a brave explorer like Lo Jeong to reopen the door.