A once thriving archipelago with its own biosphere, its own micro climate that is now stitched together from survival and refusal, instead of been stitched by the Daemon seel — places that
endured not because they were meant to, but because something insisted they should.
By 2086, the oceans no longer belonged to the surface. Humidity thickened while water disappeared. Rivers shrank into the deep scars of the dry cracked earth . Lakes and reservoirs became empty voids. The sea retreated into what was left beneath the earth leaving a trail of suffocating life.
Deep within the cavern networks, where light failed to follow, giant sand worms moved through the depths of what were the sea beds of the Daemon sea. With razor sharp teeth, and the largest could rear up on their tails and could stand a hundred feet tall.
Worm wranglers would hunt the more manageable infants, and extract the vile sludge that made the worm’s heart beat. They fermented it and sold it to taverns across the Daemon islands , a substitute for the synthetic strain of night fog that circled in unruly groups around the inhabitants.
Known to many as Worm Piss
Civilizations don’t collapse when they lose control—they collapse when they regulate every nerve until nothing moves without permission.
Deep underground, communities formed around hidden reservoirs.
They lowered themselves into the unforgivable dark to draw water, drop by careful drop, trading night blindness for survival. For most of them, they never had the strength to climb the cavern walls. Those who tried died.
There was a story that someone had once managed to scale the caverns,but whether that was true or simply something told to give the lost hope, no one know. All they new was that the water collected was pumped into small pipes, that lead above to the ruined city of Discontinuity,
As generations passed, the tectonic plates shifted and the cavern walls moved with them, The reservoirs began to deplete, Eventually, even the food sent down by the system stopped coming.
Shaped by blackness, they navigated by touch and vibration alone. Their blindness was not weakness, it was adaptation. As they changed through the generations, it was said that a Water Harvester could hear a pin drop from a mile away.
The air in the caverns became dense. Scientists of the Descending Order spliced plant and organic material that could emit oxygen. Those who were left were forced to submit to the Descending Order. The Order were shaved men and women, gormless half-dead looking, their skin was a gradient of muted blues, greys and yellows. Their mouths were infected where their tongues used to be. The dirty fibres used to sew their mouths shut, smelt of fear. The only noise you heard was the microprocessors that replaced the beads on their rosary. For if you were to hear them roar, the stalactites would certainly fall down, and the banshee-like scream would deafen you. Well, that is what the prophet said.
Half of the colony would dig deeper to search for water. The other half would maintain the heart of the mountain, fix what was left off the broken pipes. Iron was smelted and cast to become a furnace. The water would be boiled and steam would find its way to the city, where it was collected.
Every settlement above depended on them.
Water was power.
And those who controlled it held the balance of the Boundless.
Upcoming Projects
The Boundless is constantly expanding beyond its core comic series. This page highlights the projects currently in development and those planned for future release. While release dates may change as each project is carefully crafted, this road map offers a glimpse into the growing Boundless universe.
Currently in Development
Within the Boundless – Future Comic Issues
Tales of the Boundless – Stand-alone stories exploring new characters, locations, and forgotten history.
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