The high obsidian plateau of Floor Twenty-Five caught the thin, freezing mountain wind, whipping the edges of Jack Kaiser's dark coat against his shins.
Below the sheer precipice, the sprawling demonic biomes stretched across the horizon under shifting auroras, their synchronized troop movements sending a rhythmic, low-frequency hum vibrating upward through the solid rock.
The petrified cedar trees lining the southern ridge stood motionless, their blackened needles coated in a glaze of dry frost that refused to thaw under the artificial sky.
At the center of the plateau, the ten newly bound Council members remained gathered in an involuntary cluster.
The rich emerald velvets of Elowen Ashwood's skirts and the layered crimson silks of Sable Malakor rustled steadily as the cold draft bit into their tailored garments.
Their breaths rose in shallow, white plumes, their postures rigid and their shoulders drawn tight toward their necks.
