A realm of sorrow always shines in the moon's dim light. There is no such thing as day here; the only thing in the sky is a cold, white moon with no stars to accompany it. Fog strangles the wet, dark ground, never lifting the misty grip. Gothic style towns and lights can be seen throughout the realm, but only as a dark figure, never colorful. Screams, cries, and mumbling can be heard from the wanderers that are stuck here. The poor folks that wander around here are Wielders and Wicked Weapons that have committed suicide and don't remember who they were. This place is also where the soul keys that are needed for wicked weapons come from.