The floating island hung in the golden air of THE Wyld like a table raised toward heaven.
Its surface held the geometries of an archaic laboratory, built from pale stone veined with threads of gold that pulsed faintly in time with the work being done upon it. Towers of bone and brass rose at its four corners, their tips holding arrays of polished lenses that stared inward at the central platform without blinking.
Flasks hung suspended in mid air, held by nothing, their contents churning with liquids that refused to settle into any single color. Rivers of Observable Force were diverted from the golden currents flowing between islands and piped into the laboratory through channels cut into the floor, feeding the apparatus with a steady hum of siphoned power.
The air smelled of old copper and older ambition!
At the center of it all stood a golden table, and on that golden table lay a corpse that was not quite a corpse.
The body belonged to a Primordial Architect.
