There are moments, veterans of the starcurrents whisper, when the familiar tapestry of the Realm Matrix simply... goes wrong. Not a shadow, but an absence, vast and mobile, blotting out entire constellations, eclipsing distant nebulae for agonizing durations. This moving void against the deeper void is the passage of a Sunderwurm. Incomprehensible islands of primordial flesh drift upon the Aether flows, their Cthonian bulk dwarfing moons, their purpose as unfathomable as the silence they keep. To witness one is to feel the marrow freeze in your bones – not from malice, for malice requires awareness, but from the horrifying indifference of a creature so immense it consumes the stuff of stars without ever noticing the frantic, fleeting heartbeats of those who chart courses lifetimes away to avoid its silent, world-eating path.

Massive wurms of incomprehensible size that swim throughout the Realm Matrix consuming the raw aether of the starcurrents that web throughout to and from Asra.

Nhera is one of the only Realms to survive a feeding from one of these creatures, possibly crashed into by a young individual. Theories about their origins include them being creatures from previously destroyed Realms, cast adrift from an exterminated Realmstar.

Worldeaters are thought to serve a dual purpose of life-seeding and destruction throughout the matrix. They recycle aether, transport it, carry lifeforms on their carapace and may well be a part of the life cycle of Nheros.

They appear to be instinctually driven rather than intelligent, not many starsailors have thought or conceived to approach one- their size difficult to imagine. If they're capable of communication, they are far too large to perceive the sound of any word or craft of intelligent beings and are thought to hear only the thrum of the combined vibrations of the realm matrix, known as Starsong, following them to aether confluences.

They've never been observed to approach Asra itself.

What dreams, if any, stir within minds larger than planets? No one knows. To see one is to glimpse the terrifying scale of creation's cycles, to feel the cold certainty that your existence, your ship, your entire world, is less than a speck of dust upon the hide of indifferent reality, easily erased without notice or intent.