The stone highway formed by the locked and frozen iron maps cracked apart as the stern of the Void-Galleon scraped past the last boundary of the tactical maze. Ahead, the atmosphere of the Citadel of War stopped swirling, condensing instead into a heavy, stagnant fog that hung low over a massive staircase of black basalt. These steps were vast, each one deep enough to serve as a foundation for a fortress wall, rising up into the brass sky toward a pair of massive double doors that bled a dark, wet crimson glare. This was the approach to the Throne of Blood, the inner sanctum where the primary source of the constellation's malice resided.
The ship settled against the bottom step with a dull, echoing shudder that caused the loose iron shavings on the deck plates to rattle.
[Synchronization: 86.5%]
[Level: 138]
