Clementine, Taylor, and Lillie, satisfied with the garden's current state, walked into the dilapidated compound.
The smell of mold, desiccated rot, and a stagnant beast musk lingered near the floors and walls. Any open windows let in ozone-scented winds, carrying the smell of rusted iron and a metallic tang.
Wooden pillars were fissured and dried out, looking as if they would turn to dust at the slightest touch.
Luckily, the compound was mainly carved into the quartzite spire, hugging the incline and sloping upwards. With the garden at the lowest point of the property, the compound rose steeply along the spire wall.
Meanwhile, the spiraling roads of the City of Spires curved outside like a railing, and on the other side of the road were other buildings built into the spire—but their entrances were much further downhill.
Only the tallest buildings of the layer right beneath them could be seen beyond the road's safety wall.
—Sniff.
