Amber does what the rest of Plate Three can’t. It patches the holes and picks up the pieces. When that can’t be done, this is where things are laid to rest. Or preserved in Amber. This is the district of recovery, repair, and remembrance. Heal what’s broken. Salvaging what’s left. Abjuration and transmutation Doctors, battle smith repair crews, necromantic mediums, and spelltech recyclers all keep the plate running while everyone else sleeps easier. Amber Three is the only district where the subdistricts are fully interwoven together. A block might house a sauna, a scrapyard, and a grief medium under the same civic sigil. There are three subzones: recovery, resilience and remembrance. They’re all tangled here, like they are in real life. Amber’s not glamorous. It’s necessary. And if you ask anyone who lives here, it’s the only district that’s honest about what it takes to keep a city alive.
Resilience Zone
Resilience is what Plate Three believes in. Work hard and you’ll be better. This is the part of Amber where you run, sweat, train, scream into a towel, take a breath, and try again. The gyms are serious and the wizardball fields are sacred. It features expansive saunas that steam with public magic. Kids learn their first spellsteps here. Veterans run drills. Therapists post up above the noise, waiting for the moment someone’s ready to talk. The magic here is loud yet personal. It’s earned. Fathers bring their sons across the plate just to train on these fields. The resilience zone is, in a sense, the coming of age in the most Plate Three way possible.
Ultimate Bladesinger
What started as a top grossing, generationaly defining illusioflic is now the largest gym complex on Plate Three. Ultimate Bladesinger offers magical rock walls that shift while you climb, phantom obstacle courses designed by former Enforcers, and entire training halls devoted to swordwork, because yes, they still teach proper bladesinging here. There’s magic in the halls, but you’ll be sweating for real. Rows of treadmills, timed spell circuits, endurance hex sprints, it’s all built to push your limits. Personal trainers are contract bound, highly trained, and in demand. Most members only make it out one or twice a month, but for many, that’s enough. Staying in shape is only part of what they pay for. It’s the Plate Three fantasy; wiping sweat from your brow and quoting Ted the Ultimate Bladesinger under your breath, “Yeah! I’m thinking I’ll multiclass.”
Parks of Holding
There are three Parks of Holding across Amber. Publicly funded but privately run, they offer the space that most Plate Three citizens can’t find at home. Each park houses a wellness center and dozens of extradimensional focus pockets, each with its own magical conditions. One chamber might muffle sound entirely. Another may shift time just enough to stretch an hour of meditation into three. Visitors use the parks for meditation, acupuncture, energy alignment, or simply to breathe somewhere private. There are guided sessions, yes, but many just sign in, pick a room, and find their own stillness. The line can be long, especially on weekends, but it’s worth the wait. The city can be claustrophobic at times, the Parks of Holding offer a coping method.
The Wizardball Fields
The only public Wizardball fields on Plate Three are in Amber’s Resilience Zone, and that makes this place sacred turf. Teams form, games start, and magic flies. It’s loud. It’s sweaty. It’s Plate Three’s sport. Around the fields, the energy spills into food carts, booster stalls, and therapy practices that cater to those who came for a pickup match and stayed to untangle something deeper.
Therapists rent space in the square’s upper tiers, offering Plate Three’s quietly overworked citizens a chance to sit down, breathe, and talk. It’s quite common to say, “I’m heading to the Amber fields.” As a cultural way of expressing that you’re seeing your therapist.
Auric Commons
The Auric Commons were built on the idea that Plate Three’s citizens deserve beauty with their breathwork. This private wellness pavilion blends structured magical recreation with curated community space. Classes rotate seasonally; elemental calligraphy, invocation movement, harmonized spellstep, and enchantment improv. Visitors come to find their center.
The Four Elements
The Four Elements is Plate Three’s most respected bathhouse, a cornerstone of magical wellness culture. As the name suggests it has four elemental saunas; Fire, Ice, Sand, and Wind. Each offers enchantments to match. Fire purges fatigue. Ice sharpens memory. Sand soothes aches. Wind clears the mind. It’s not cheap, but it’s not out of reach. Workers save up. Families give gift certificates. This is where Plate Three relaxes and makes connections.
Recovery Zone
Recovery is where you get your bones knit and your constructs re-calibrated. Hopefully, your pride isn’t bruised in the process. This is the district’s medical spine, full of hospitals, clinics, and repair bays where transmutation magic works overtime to keep the plate moving. They all hum with the same purpose. Get better, then get back to it. Plate Three doesn’t boast about needing help. But it does respect those who provide it. The head arcane doctors and senior artificer techs here are some of the most educated workers on the plate. Show up with your co-pay and hope you don’t need to come back next week.
Painkiller Pathways
Welcome to Painkiller Pathways, the building in Wuh-Zhei where they’ll treat both your busted arm and your busted refrigerator. Frosted glass stretches across every wall and doorway, as if to suggest the healthcare system is transparent. Almost. Four years ago, Aggroation Public Hospital, the last serious competitor, was bought out and glassified. Now your only alternatives are private practices.
Founded and owned by the Paine family of Plate One, the current president, Whin Paine, is a known philanthropist and upstanding Transneuroclast. Many wonder why he hasn’t been given Sintetra’s Senate seat. Sometimes, the transmutation magic here will regrow your fingers. Sometimes it expires at midnight if your co-signature isn’t notarized. But hey, at least we’re not the Fifth Plate. And if you need a second opinion, go speak with mechanics your toaster for advice. It was fixed in the same same building.
Earthgem Mall
Earthgem Mall isn’t fancy, but it works. If you’ve had enough of frosted glass and full copays Earthgem offers a sideways grid of independent specialists. A literal doctor mall. You’ll find everything here; optics, bonecraft, wand alignment, vehicle repair and dental. Some clinics are sleek and proper, others rent by the week and share front desks. Prices vary. Results do too. But the wait is shorter than Painkiller Pathways and they’ll actually look you in the eye when they take your blood or your oil.
It hugs the edge of Azure’s Skygem Mall and benefits from the foot traffic. You get your enchantments cleaned upstairs, your molar drilled downstairs. Everyone’s got a go-to spot. Your cousin’s therapist. Your ex’s cosmetic rune sculptor. A dryad who does cartilage regrowth with song and spore. No one’s ashamed of going to Earthgem. Workers, warlocks and wizards come here. It’s about getting better, together. That’s the Plate Three way.
Dispatch Depot Three
Plate Three doesn’t get to fall apart. That’s why Dispatch Depot Three exists. Fully state-owned and Enforcer run with their unmistakable green uniforms. This is where civic stability gets routed, scheduled, and deployed. Roof leaking arcane mist? Street cracked by sigil warping? Body failing after twelve shifts without rest? Submit your form, light your window sigil, and wait. Someone will come. Eventually.
The depot itself smells like steel, spell-coolant, and overcooked caf. Inside, Enforcer medic-repair wizards and structural abjurers huddle by glowing dispatch boards. They may be overworked and late, but they show up with their boots laced. You don’t want to have to call them. But when they knock, you’re glad you did. Part exorcist, part EMT, part furnace tech. They carry backup sigils and the Plate Three patch with quiet pride.
One Thousand and One for One
The Plate Three dream is if you work hard you’ll make it to Plate Two. We all know the story of Belle the Bastard. A leyline dwarf who dropped out of Contractual Magic school yet believed in diamonds and diligence. Years later, Belle was awarded a ticket and an estate on Plate Two which she famously sold to buy the city block her business now occupies.
Her private resurrection clinic, built out of what used to be two backstreet Earthgem offices and now holds the longest resurrection waitlist in Plate Three. Belle herself performs every rite she can. She says if she didn’t, it wouldn’t count. You place your loved one on a stone table under a cold lamp. The room hums.
She’s a celestial warlock, which, seeing as the gods are dead, should probably be impossible? That’s why Plate Two elites whisper her name and then make appointments under fake ones. She is blunt, respected, and louder than the bishop barons of the lower plates. She’s an Optimist who speaks open and positively of the New Faith. If you’ve got a thousand gold and one diamond worth a thousand gold, then she will trade it for one life of someone you loved.
Remembrance Zone
Death is part of the system. Everyone in Plate Three knows that. The Remembrance Zone is where memory is maintained, honored, and filed with precision. Quiet graveyards on the plate’s underside. Ceremony-focused necromancers. Responsible scrapyards. Time slowed eldercare. This is a place for preservation and legacy. The architecture is austere. The tone respectful. And while few choose to linger, everyone ends up here eventually. In Amber remembrance is civic duty.
The Underside Graves
Beneath Amber Three lies a second city, quiet and inverted. The graveyards here are scattered, private, locally managed, and ancient. Each has its own street-level entrance: small stone buildings with lantern sigils and paperwork counters. When it’s time, you sign the scrolls, descend a stairwell, and step through a door in the ground. Gravity shifts in a single smooth spell, and suddenly you are upright on the underside of the plate, walking among the dead.
Families tend their plots. Some subdistricts manage their own graveyards with quiet pride. There are Enforcer burial zones, sealed Amethyst researcher vaults, even one garden where only those claimed by the Unraveling are laid to rest. Names glow gently, flickering with the old magic. Some graves are built into the stone. Others float, anchored by enchantments like still boats in skywater. The lights are dim and the air is cold. Down here, the silence is incredibly well-behaved. Plate Three honors its dead by making room on the other side of the sky.
True Way Ascendant
Plate Three has one final promotion. It is guaranteed that if you save, sacrifice and suffer long enough you can spend all of eternity on Plate Two. Burial in the Ascendant, beneath the elite underside of Plate Two. The portal access is limited. The paperwork is extensive. The visitation rules are strict. But none of that matters. Because once a Plate Three citizen takes the “true “true way,” they are technically no longer of the middle class. They are, by land and law, part of Plate Two.
The Ways themselves are stunning. Rows of crystal-stabilized crypts, inscribed with radiant sigils that never dim. The gravity hums inverted and softer. The air feels thinner. The light bends cleaner. You won’t be buried with the elites, of course. But you’ll be adjacent. And if your children behave and doesn’t miss a filing deadline, they might even get to visit. Every Plate Three district has stories of someone who live their life the true way and ascended. They’re told with tears. With pride.
The Chronoextension Home
There are dozens of eldercare facilities in Amber, but only one where time itself slows to a crawl. The Chronoextension Home was built for the dignified compression of a life’s final years. Days stretched into decades, minutes into months. It’s expensive, tightly regulated, and considered one of Plate Three’s highest honors. Most families can’t afford it. Some bankrupt themselves trying. The idea is simple: give the elders more time. Let the grandchildren visit. Let the great-grandchildren be born. Let the story continue, even if only behind glass.
Visiting feels like prison. You sit in a narrow room, pick up a sending stone, and stare through enchanted glass at a version of someone you haven’t seen in a year even though they just saw you an hour ago. If they’re near the end, the compression gets weirder. Conversations overlap. You remember things they haven’t said yet. In some rare cases, you find yourself visiting beside your past self, watching someone die in slow echo. But inside the Home, the residents live well. There are gardens. Classes. A book club. A weekly dance. It is, from their perspective, just a quiet, comfortable home with very attentive scheduling. From outside, their chrono compression only continues if you make the monthly payments.
The Amber Three Repurposing Network
The Amber Three Repurposing Network is a multitude of scrapyards scattered through the district. Here on Plate Three we don’t toss aside what once served. We take care of our old constructs and our burnt-out spelltech. Some scrapyards are clean, quiet, and ceremonial. Others buzz with the grind of arcane cutters and deactivation chants. But every lot in the Network runs by the same principle: no waste, no rot, no shame.
This isn’t Plate Four. You can’t just dump things here. You register. You document. You do it right. Because those parts go back into the system. Deconstructed here, sent to Ruby or Citrine and repurposed into something new. The next generation of constructs. That’s how we honor the past: by using it to keep the present running. That’s how the last city has survived this long.
Gaven Gindu’s Medium Core
Founded by the late Archmage Gaven Gindu and now operated by the Reno family, Medium Core is where Plate Three goes to finish its conversations. With a storefront outside every major graveyard and a soaring main office in Amber Proper, the service is both civic and personal. Sessions are limited to five questions. Payment plans are available. And if you want the real experience, you book at the Core itself, where you can still speak with Archmage Gindu, whose preserved soul serves as both icon and cornerstone of the business. His answers are friendly. His stories are long. Most people visit just to say hello.
Y-E Reading Room
Owned by the venerable Eighth Oracle Emerald of the Gilded Gaze, Yellow-Emerald Reading Room Services offers professional divinations of personal object and heirlooms. You don’t watch the reading. You don’t speak to the oracle. You hand over the item, sign a waiver, and wait. A sealed report is delivered, often with percentile certainty, emotional annotations, and, if you’re lucky, a sense of closure. Their services are considered reliable, formal, and far too expensive for most. Clients who use them are often whispered about for “spoiling themselves,” but nobody questions the results. That’s the contract. You want to know what’s left behind? You let them read it clean.