August reached the top of the vine-laden climb, pulling himself onto a vast stone platform.
His breath caught as he took in the sight before him—Tavirah the lost, floating city, shrouded in an atmosphere of eerie darkness.
Heavy, dark clouds hung over the city, blocking any hint of sunlight and casting everything in an oppressive gloom. The air was thick with an unnatural chill, and the faint sound of echoing whispers drifted through the wind, carried like ghostly murmurs.
Ahead, phantom-like beings drifted aimlessly. Their bodies were translucent and shadowy, swirling in and out of form as if caught between existence and oblivion.