The atmosphere at this altitude was a place where air became theoretical.
Miles above the world, where the sky itself began to darken into the star-pocked black of void, the temperature had long since passed the threshold where mortal lungs would crystallize with each breath.
Unrefined mana permeated the rarefied, inhospitable atmosphere, resembling crystallized shards poised to penetrate any unprotected consciousness that dared to ascend to such altitudes.
The wind sheared across the upper atmosphere in silent, violent jet streams that carried enough kinetic force to strip flesh from bone.
Down below, far enough that the curvature of the world became visible, Caeloria sprawled across green valleys and white mountain peaks like a child's toy scattered across cloth.
The city itself was invisible at this distance. just another smudge of grey and white among the landscape's complexity.
