The space they had materialized in defied common sense!
Walls of flaming obsidian gold rose on all sides…left, right, above, and below, creating a cube of scorching paradox that had no true orientation.
The flames themselves were wrong, burning with heat that froze and cold that seared, their light casting shadows that were somehow brighter than the surfaces they fell upon.
The obsidian was not solid but liquid, not liquid but gas, not gas but something that existed in states for which no words had been invented!
"Young Miss," Thessaly's voice rang out from behind them, already hidden in the veils of existence alongside Altheon, their presence undetectable yet undeniably close.
"We are right behind and will act as soon as danger appears."
Sigrid nodded. "Let me act first. If I cannot handle it, then you may make your move."
There was no verbal response, but Noah felt the acknowledgment silently.
