Imagine a world, much like our own a few hundred years ago — a world of
men, of cobblestone roads and horse drawn carriages, of majestic manor houses
and sprawling plantations and massive cities packed with soldiers and citizens,
beggars and noblemen, artisans and thieves.

But then imagine something has gone direly amiss. Thick black clouds blot
out the sun, belched by titanic volcanoes dotting the horizon. Rather than rain, ash
falls from the sky, always, every day... It stains the buildings, chokes the rivers,
and blankets the land like a sea of stained snow. Imagine there are no flowers, no
green grass or leafy trees — only stunted brown undergrowth struggling to reach
the meager light of a dim red sky.

Imagine that at night, roiling clouds of impenetrable mist materialize to swirl
and dance in the streets, shrouding the stars and shrouding mortal danger for those
foolish enough to venture out into the dark. Mindless mistwraiths — horrific
beings that devour the dead to make of them a mockery of life — hunt intrepid
wanderers, while savage gangs of bandits and rebels plunder barges and passersby
for what little they carry.

Imagine a society so repressive that police and priest, state and church are
one, and that your ruler is not just a man but a god who sees, knows, and controls
all. Imagine his grip on the land’s culture is so strong that he can stifle the march
of technology, halt integration of the classes, and rule unopposed for a thousand
years. Imagine that innovation, evolution, and ingenuity are replaced by duty,
devotion, and above all, fealty.

Imagine a world where wealth is not measured in gold, or connections, or
status, but in secrets — where everyone and everything conceals something else.

Imagine those secrets are valuable not for the information they offer, but the
power they wield — that they can become weapons to destroy, shields to protect,
and treasure so coveted that others would kill to see them buried forever.

Imagine a power, hidden in a select few, that lets them use metal to soar
through the air, perform superhuman feats of strength and speed, and manipulate
emotions. Then imagine being hunted for that power, by creatures so brutal, so
relentless they’ll stop at nothing to tear your very soul from your body.

Imagine living in such a world — and choosing to fight against it. You fight to
shrug off the bonds of oppression, fear, and entropy that poison the land and divide
the people. Your opponents have every edge at their disposal: all the control, all
the money, and divinity itself on their side, and still you don’t surrender. You fight
to change the world, because if you can’t change it, it’s not worth saving.

This is the world of Mistborn.