The gate deposited them onto the twenty-second floor.
It was unlike anything they had seen before. A single, massive spire rose from the center of a circular platform. The spire was made of white stone, spiraling upward into a sky of swirling colors. Purple. Gold. Crimson. The colors bled into one another like paint in water.
The platform itself was vast. Wide enough for a hundred battles. The edges dropped off into nothingness. No railings. No safety. Just empty space and distant clouds.
And at the base of the spire, it waited.
The Guardian.
It was a dragon. But not like any dragon they had seen in stories. This one was made of light and shadow. Its scales shifted between white and black, flickering like a candle in the wind. Its eyes were two points of pure gold. Its wings stretched wide, casting no shadow. Its tail was a blade of condensed energy.
It did not roar. It simply turned its head. Looked at them. Waited.
Arthur drew his sword. "This is it."
