The transition from the pristine, opalescent sanctuary of the Temple of Origins to the rotting underbelly of the Sacred Land was a violent, jarring assault on the senses.
Jovis had woven a highly complex, heavily cloaked spatial warp. Instead of the blinding, pearlescent vortex that had brought them to the divine plane, this gateway was a subtle, shimmering tear in reality, completely masked from the celestial surveillance grid. When the strike team stepped through the threshold, the deafening silence of the Fringes immediately swallowed them whole.
