Here houses are built from stones, and boats devour people; Here in the forest there lives wild fire and Juvia wanders. Here the language itself is of a dioecious nature, and the Khoms carry meadows and seas on their backs. There is nothing stronger than resin armor and nothing more beautiful than the fractals of the Ephorate. Here the living space is plowed by ships, whose hearts are fused with the hearts of their captains. Here power is shared by the Armator of the Tower and the Statute, the Word of Weapon. The blinding gold of the locust and the all-consuming darkness of Oscuro argue here. There is no time or limits here. Here, in Lut, the paths of those who were not supposed to go together will intersect and merge.