Zhenha, a fortress built atop blackened hills encircled by jagged obsidian spires like the shattered crown of a long dead king. Between the rings lay a chasm veiled in rolling mist, obscuring the bottom from sight.
Etched upon the dark stones of the fortress and the obsidian spikes surrounding it were Eclipse icons. Ritualistic markings that have been worn with age and redrawn countless times.
A blazing red to contrast the material that it's marked upon.
At the heart of this cursed bastion of the Eclipse rose a fortress. A towering monolith crafted from black stone, stretching skyward like a defiant act against the heavens.
Weaved between the gaps of the material were putrid crimson veins that twitched with false life, as if flesh had been fused to stone, pulsing with an unholy vitality. A heretical mockery of life.
