The arcane door, a swirling vortex of solidified shadow and pulsating light, dissolved behind David and Vespera, leaving them standing on a floor that was not stone, but a surface that felt like solidified starlight.
The air here was thin, crackling with an dark energy that tasted of ozone and forgotten epochs. It was a domain sculpted from judgment itself, a place where reality bent to the will of a power beyond mortal comprehension.
They had stepped not into a mere room, but into a titanic, twilight-warped throne room. It stretched into an impossible distance, its cavernous expanse losing itself in a gloom so profound that even the concept of light seemed alien.
