As the expedition crested the final ridge above the eastern limestone quarry, the peaceful green foothills of the capital province ended with sudden violence.
Below them lay a vast chalk basin carved out by centuries of royal excavation, its pale terraces scarred by recent seismic ruptures.
In the center of that chalk depression, the earth looked as though a colossal jagged claw had torn open the fabric of the mortal world.
Surrounding the rim of the sunken pit stood a fortified perimeter of thick timber palisades reinforced by metal stakes wrapped in defensive warding paper.
Two dozen local garrison archers paced the wooden catwalks with knuckles clenched around their longbows while their faces remained pale beneath helms.
The spatial tear itself was three men tall and easily twenty paces wide, churning with violent currents of black and bruised purple energy.
