The place was dark. Wet. The ground was uneven. Then again, this wasn't exactly ground—just a massive pile of wreckage that had fused together over time to form a drifting island.
For that reason, everything on it was tightly packed, pressed together so snugly it gave off the illusion of stability. But Damon knew better.
It was all a lie.
Moving one piece—shifting anything that wasn't meant to be moved—could send the entire island crumbling down into the monster-infested waters below.
He saw many things that had once belonged to a vibrant, thriving city. Wood, metal, stone… random debris. Road signs, wheels, shattered swords, splintered shields, rusted armor—all jumbled into one chaotic ruin.
Too many wrecks. Too many memories drowned and broken.
His shadow perception picked up too much. Shapes. Movement. Echoes. And deep pools of water, snaking through the wreckage like hidden veins—leading to the abyss.
A place far too dangerous to navigate.
One misstep and they'd fall in.
