The Starsea

The starsea is the vast, empty space that stretches between the three continents - "empty," of course, being a relative term. The atmosphere is breathable, but passage is treacherous. The star's aether, unhindered by landmass, runs rampant here, twisting about in ever-shifting ley lines and self-contained "pockets" that drift among the rubble. Just a mile out from the shore lies the veil, a purple-ish mist that obscures vision and forces most ships to move no faster than a horse's trot. Collision with meteoroids, which range in size from tiny pebbles to massive boulders, is inevitable.
All these factors and more make large-scale trade between the continents impossible. Usually, only luxury goods have large enough profit margins to be worth the trip, and these trickle in on airships no more than a hundred feet across - anything larger could not maneuver the starsea's many obstacles.

The Aether

The cosmic energy from Thera's star finds no barriers in the starsea - the safe, predictable magic that filters through the continents surges wildly past their shores. Vessels which rely on magic will not survive their journey, for they will find it bursts and falters at random. Propulsion systems will stop or explode, stranding the ship or sending it tumbling into an eternal fall towards the star. Arcane shields will fail, leaving the ship vulnerable to meteoroids. And woe betide the mage who, in desperation or stupidity, attempts to cast a spell at sea: death, disfigurement, and embarrassment are among the many consequences.
For much of Thera's history, the starsea was simply untraversable. It was only 350 years ago that the first airship survived its trip from the tip of Erit to Alba's outermost island, built and piloted by a gnome by the name of Lympart Alderhorne. Since then, airships have relied on gnomic technology to safely cross between the continents.

The Veil

A mile out from each continent's edge, and barely visible from their shores, lies the veil. The exact qualities of the veil are unknown - some believe it is part of the aether; others think it is the natural atmosphere of the area. More sinister theories suggest it is an illusion placed by a malicious mage who has somehow conquered the aether, or a byproduct of interplanar travel from demons coming to our world - but these are mostly fringe conspiracies, peddled by insistent cults and ignored by larger society.
Regardless of its origins, the veil itself does no discernable harm by exposure or ingestion. But its violet fog obscures vision beyond a few dozen feet, and therein lies the danger. Meteoroids large and small stay hidden til the last moment, forcing ships to move at a crawl most snails would be embarrassed by. Moreover, the past hundred years or so has seen the rise of pirates as new technology makes smaller, nimbler ships more feasible. The veil provides easy cover for a surprise ambush and a speedy getaway - relatively speaking, of course.

The Rubble

Presumed to be bits of broken-off earth from the continents - or even remnants from their very creation - the starsea's rubble starts closer to the shore than does the veil, but grows more and more treacherous the further one ventures out. Rocks from a few inches to several feet in diameter are too densely packed to avoid, but won't do much more than minor cosmetic damage to a sturdy metal hull. Around the five-foot mark they become a more serious concern, and meteoroids ten, fifteen, and twenty feet wide are common obstacles. Some rival Alba's smallest islands in size.
Most of this displaced earth floats about rather slowly, and can be easily avoided despite the veil's obscurity. However, the aether has a physical effect on ship and rock alike. Some boulders do not drift lazily, but tumble violently about, sent spinning by a sudden burst of aether or streaming past like a rocky river pushed by ley line energy. The unpredictable nature of the aether is such that even the few dozen feet visible in front of you is not entirely to be trusted: at any moment, a shifting ley line or surge of energy could push the rubble - or the ship itself - into action.
It is for this reason more than any other that airships remain limited in size. A certain amount of maneuverability cannot be sacrificed, and no metal can yet withstand the blow of a twenty-foot boulder at a hundred miles per hour. The largest ships skim the top of the veil, where visibility is clearer and the aether less volatile, but this comes with its own challenges as the atmosphere thins. Low-flying ships deal with larger rubble and the risk of being drawn into an endless fall towards Thera's star - few go this route.

Type

Void