There it stood—a Golden Palace, a sanctum untouched by time, perched as if atop a radiant, sky-floating mountain wreathed in divine clouds of gold.
Colossal golden spires pierced the heavens like spears of judgment, each etched with celestial dragon runes that glowed faintly with molten light. The entire exterior shimmered—as though the palace itself breathed. Its walls were forged from an unknown alloy, a material that gleamed like dawn on an ancient battlefield, and at times seemed to reflect echoes of past rulers in its solemn luster.
Stretching before the palace was a wide bridge—The Path of Kings—suspended above an endless chasm of light. Embedded along its length were glowing golden scales, each one larger than a man, laid out like stepping stones on a dragon's spine. Every step toward the palace resonated with memory—whispers of tyrant dragon roars and divine decrees echoing with every footfall.
