I thought I had seen it all when I beheld the Silverwood.
But it is nothing compared to the Night Desert.
An endless ocean of black sand stretches beyond the horizon—dune upon dune of ink-dark waves, rolling like a frozen sea. Not the dull, lifeless black of ash or soot, but something far stranger, far more mesmerizing. These sands shimmer with a deep iridescence, each grain catching the light like ground obsidian or powdered starlight, as if the night sky itself had been shattered and sifted across the land.
Under the noontide sun, the desert gleams with an eerie brilliance. Light reflects in silken ripples off the undulating hills, casting liquid shadows and glints of silver. It is a place both dead and divine—silent yet sacred in its stillness.
