Picture a world (yet unnamed, although they didn't have names before Spira and Ivalice) where the planet's core is not molten rock, but rather molten magical energy. When this concentrated magic makes contact with a vacuum of power (IE: the non-magical air on the surface), it crystallizes. And when it makes contact with a vessel (IE a living thing), it mutates that vessel into a monstrous vehicle of destruction (Natural flora and fauna become fiends when exposed).
This magic naturally erupts from the planet's core from vents in the surface crust, six of which are well known to man and four of which are under their control. The crystallized magic serves all manner of purpose: in the hands of a user a crystallized shard grants the ability to cast spells (ala Materia, though some natural talent is necessary); it is often used as a source of electrical energy to power machinery; and a very special nation of people can take in the essence of the vents and draw mighty spirits into their bodies (these are the callers, and they've become a gypsy society since their powers destroyed their homeland).
Two great alliances of nations have gone to war over the implications of crystal use: one believes the forces are too dangerous to control while the other believes that--unchecked--the crystals and their vents would eventually swallow the entire world. But there's something sinister about this conflict that lingers beneath the surface. And while the nations fight each other in this struggle, no one is paying attention to anything else. And the number of cracks in the planet's surface seems to be increasing.
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