The descent into the lowest foundations of the Sunken Spire felt like walking into the burning throat of an underworld volcano. The air grew heavy and sulfurous, thick with the oily soot of hundreds of black tallow torches and the sickening, metallic odor of dried blood. Along the curved walls of obsidian glass, rivers of glowing molten rock coursed through carved drainage channels, casting dancing, bloody reflections across the ceiling.…
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