The Odyssey limped through the last veil of the Creation Storm and entered the calm, quiet eye. The violent chaos of the storm gave way to a perfect, peaceful silence. Before them, floating in the center of the black, star-dusted space, was the Forge of Genesis.
The last time Ryan had seen this place, it had been a sight of breathtaking, impossible beauty. It was a continent of pure creation, a landscape of glowing rivers, crystal mountains that sang, and forests of trees made from pure light. It was a place that felt clean, new, and full of infinite promise.
Now, it was a place of sickness.
A dark, ugly corruption had spread across the beautiful landscape like a cancer. Dark, crystalline structures, like jagged black thorns, had erupted from the ground, marring the once-perfect surface. The glowing rivers now ran with a sluggish, oily black light.
