A rusty red orb in Miranda's sky, and a sun-baked wasteland on the ground beneath it.
Once lush, bled dry of surface life so its subterranean magic might endure.
Viewed from the homeworld of Miranda, Mika hangs in the sky like a rusty red orb. Down on the surface, it resembles a cinematic, sun-baked desert wasteland, choked with rocky terrain, red dust, and stark, dead horizons. Once a smaller, inhabited world teeming with life, Mika was ruined when its ancient civilizations discovered how to tap directly into the planet's raw, planetary life-force to fuel their spells. This reckless draw of raw magic drained the moon entirely, scorching the ecosystem and leaving behind a barren husk.
Survival here is brutal, but not entirely impossible. Enough sparse materials remain hidden in the wasteland to keep stranded travelers from dying, though the primary goal of anyone who lands on Mika is simply to find a way off.
Scattered across the rocky expanses like desert cacti.
Strange, crimson crystalline formations scatter the rocky expanses like desert cacti. These crystals are the physical scar tissue of the moon, a direct byproduct of Mika's raw magic being drained to zero.
A miraculous, completely intact temple dedicated to Noia, the god of time. Because Noia's temples exist outside the decay of linear time as mathematical or magical constants, this site stands fully preserved and identical down to the millimeter to every other temple of Noia across the planes. Even here, in a world bled of nearly everything living, one of the Keeper's sanctuaries still stands, sealed beneath a dome of held time, untouched by the dust storms that have scoured Mika bare for ten thousand years. The scholars who once tended it are long gone, but the temple has never once needed them; Noia's own breath keeps its air, its light, and its silence exactly as they were the day it was built.
Ancient castles of alien build are scattered across the lands. These places still hold portals to Miranda and other worlds. Still fueled by the little remaining magical force in the world, they can never be fully closed, always providing a staging point for strange planar beings who thrive on conquest, enslavement, and ripping the raw sources from a place.