Second Floor [2]

Azriel found himself with the others standing on the edge of a tall cliff that seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions.

Below them, a desolate expanse of land sprawled out, a wasteland that gave the illusion of a dried-up ocean—though it was far from any natural desert.

The drop from the cliff had to be at least a hundred meters, if not more, and the jagged rocks that dotted the bottom made his stomach churn at the thought of falling.

Gazing down, Azriel let out a shaky breath and kneeled to steady himself, his fingers brushing the cold, stone edge of the cliff.

He squinted, trying to make sense of the sight below.

Was his mind playing tricks on him?

No matter how long he stared, the ground looked like a graveyard from some ancient nightmare.

Massive, misshapen black rocks jutted out of the earth in eerie, twisted forms.