The hidden world trembled.
John soared through the artificial sky, each powerful beat of his wings sending ripples through the golden air. Behind him, Aerion rode currents of silver mana, while Lythriel bounded from floating island to floating island with astonishing speed. Sylvara floated at the rear, surrounded by shimmering magical circles that continuously analyzed the unstable mana saturating the realm.
From above, the true scale of the hidden sanctuary became terrifyingly clear.
It was enormous.
The World Tree dominated the horizon, its trunk so vast that entire mountain ranges could have been carved into its bark. Rivers of liquid light wound around its roots like glowing serpents, feeding countless floating islands suspended beneath its colossal branches.
But corruption had already claimed nearly half of this forgotten paradise.
Crystal forests had become fields of black glass.
Golden waterfalls poured streams of darkness.
