It was not meant for mortal eyes
No light existed here except that which the spire allowed, and even that came in slow, pulsing waves.
The light was dim, then bright, then dim again like a heartbeat. In fact, it seemed a little too much like a heartbeat.
The air was heavy, thick with the metallic tang of magi, and every sound, even the smallest shift of a cloak, seemed swallowed by the black stone walls.
The space itself felt alive. Not alive in a warm, welcoming way, but alive like a predator waiting, coiled and patient.
An audible heartbeat thrummed in the dark, rhythmic and slow, pulsing through the spire's core and sending vibrations beneath the feet of the five figures gathered in a crescent around it.
There were no visible doors, cracks, or hinges.
There seemed to be no entryway whatsoever.
