The sensation of being pulled by the space vortex suddenly disappeared, replaced by a solid feeling beneath his feet.
Lynch steadied himself, his deep eyes sweeping across the surroundings instantly.
He found himself in a grand and ancient circular hall. The floor was made of a peculiar dark gray wood, covered with dense, annular patterns, giving a contradictory sensation of warmth and cold underfoot.
The dome of the hall was exceedingly high, shrouded in darkness, supported not by stone columns, but by countless coiling, writhing black roots, as if alive and slowly crawling. Faint dark green energy veins flowed across the roots' surfaces, resembling decaying blood vessels.
The air was thick with a unique aroma, a mix of ancient wood, decaying earth, and pure magic power, a characteristic scent of the Decaying Wood Domain.
