Sablewood is an anomaly within Kovari, both in its atmosphere and its people. The very air here seems to carry an ethereal violet tint, bathing the rivers, forests, and sky in a perpetual dusk-like glow. No one knows why this happens—perhaps a natural phenomenon, perhaps something deeper tied to the island’s origins—but it is a defining trait of the region.

Despite the mutations that mark its inhabitants, Sablewood is a place of peace. Far in the south of Kovari Island - it is a place where calm lives in the air and color weaves through the streets like song. The district is a dreamlike blend of nature and structure, with winding avenues cutting through towering violet forests, and soft lanterns casting gentle hues over cobblestone paths.

Despite its deep ties to nature, Sablewood has modern touches—homes with clean architecture nestled among the trees, quiet cafés beneath bioluminescent canopies, and entire market rows shaded by petal-shaped awnings.

The mood here is peaceful, even enchanted. Purple mists drift in at dawn, and the trees hum faintly at night, like they’re remembering something ancient. It's a place where people go to feel safe—and to forget the chaos of the world beyond.

The people of Sablewood are unmistakable—hybrids, marked by striking features that blur the line between elegance and strangeness. Some have octopus-like tendrils that rise from their heads like living crowns, curling with thought and mood. Others grow ram-like horns, coiled with pride and power, often decorated with threads of silver or beads of memory. Their colors range from soft pastels—lavender, blush, aqua, orange—to rare flashes of brilliant brightness.

They are emotional, creative, and deeply expressive. Artisans, poets, sculptors, and glassmakers thrive here, weaving beauty into everything from daily life to public spaces. Their talents don’t follow trends—they shape them. Sablewood hybrids live intuitively, guided by rhythm, feeling, and connection.

But among them, some are different. As teenagers, they burn hotter than the rest—rebellious, untamed, and unforgettable. These are the ones The Syndicate watches closely. Not for discipline, but for potential.

The Ladies—The Syndicate’s elite enforcers and living legends—are often born from this fire. Recruited not for obedience but for defiance, they are chosen during their most chaotic years. It’s that spark, that magnetism, that unshakable presence that draws The Syndicate in. Sablewood has long been a silent forge for these powerful figures, even if the rest of the island rarely realizes

Despite its beauty, Sablewood has layers—and not all of them are gentle. The forest is ancient, and locals whisper that it remembers. Wander deep enough, and the trees might show you what the future hides—or what the past refused to give. Strange lights flicker in the distance some nights, and the mists sometimes carry voices that don’t belong.

Some say the forest helps choose the next Lady. Others believe it feeds something deeper, something older than The Syndicate or the Guardians. Whatever the truth, Sablewood doesn’t fear mystery—it breathes it.

There are no stationed Guardians here. They pass through, rarely. But trouble never lingers long. Sablewood knows how to deal with its own.

And if someone disappears into the trees... the people simply lower their voices and light a candle. Not for mourning, but for transformation.