The Scorched Bone Wilderness takes a breath during the brief truce between two Gods.
A foul, dark-red sky hangs low, as if soaked in coagulated filth blood, eternally observing this repeatedly ravaged land.
On the charred, cracked earth, countless fractured giant skeletons lie scattered.
They were once unimaginable abyssal behemoths, now reduced to jagged bones that are as fragile as dead branches, crushed into finer powder in the aftermath of divine warfare, mingled with sulfur dust covering the ground.
The ground is filled with bottomless cracks where the red-hot lava flows like the earth's defiant blood, surging and bubbling with a dull sound, steaming the thick, acrid smoke of sulfur.
The air is laden with the stench of singed, sulfur, demonic blood sweetness, and ozone from torn space, suffocatingly dense.
The space itself appears extremely unstable, with tiny black fissures flashing like lightning, wounds yet to fully heal, exuding the chilling presence of the Void.
