The Mazeheart was nothing like Thalen expected.
He had pictured a chamber carved from ancient stone, maybe filled with relics and guarded by some monstrous sentinel. But what awaited him was something far stranger something older.
The moment Thalen stepped through the golden gate, the world shifted. The heavy pressure of the maze dissolved, replaced by silence pure and absolute. Dain followed closely behind, wincing with each step, his aura still shaky from the battle with the rogue Tyrant-wielder.
The chamber beyond stretched endlessly in every direction. The floor beneath them was a perfect mirror, reflecting the sky above a sky of swirling orange and red flame, dancing slowly like a living canvas. There were no walls, no ceiling only fire and reflection, as though they stood between two burning heavens.
"What… is this place?" Dain whispered, spinning slowly, his reflection warping beneath his boots.
