Xylea was meant to be a paradise.
A distant oasis from the conflict that embroiled and eventually overtook those that came before and their far-spanning reach.
For evasive purposes, it was successful. Even many years later, it managed to avoid and outlive its ancestry. Perhaps even the threats that pursued them.
Creatures thrived, survived, died. The planet's systems churned and worked as they were designed.
Many systems left in place, arcane to the inhabitants, still worked in harmony over the ages.
Though eventually, the inhabitants would want more. They would develop, change, create their own way of interacting with that which was left behind for them.
Items shaped to their needs and wants, molded beyond their original purposes, but still every bit as powerful.
The inhabitants would want to spread their wings and move among the stars that once belonged to their progenitors.
The pieces to do so were there. Waiting to be discovered.