The two lands lay under a sunless, clouded sky, the air cool and heavy. One side was washed in a pale light like morning, a thin silver that softened edges and lifted a fine haze from the soil. The other held a dimmer glow close to a melancholic evening, colors muted, shadows long, the ground drinking in the gray as if twilight had pooled there.
In that softer half-light rose the Rank 4 Spark Citadelith, its vast fortress-body girded by long walls that swallowed nearly half the land.
The stone looked rain-worn and dark, pitted in places, yet every line sat with the calm of something built to endure. From afar, it seemed gloomy; up close, it felt like a work of art, the kind you could sit before and simply watch, sipping wine as you appreciated its beauty.
Sszhar's massive serpent form was nowhere in sight. On Adyr's command, it had opened a pocket dimension with Rift Maw and withdrawn inside.
