Province of Ashen, eastern empire. Months four and five.
The Crown of Storms was, as dungeons went, dramatic.
It manifested as a permanent storm system above a mountain range — perpetual lightning, wind speeds that would strip flesh from bone at its upper altitudes, and an internal structure that shifted every forty-eight hours as the storm's rotation changed. Navigating it required either the ability to fly, the ability to resist the environmental damage, or both.
Anton had both.
He also found the constant lightning mildly pleasant. There was something clarifying about an environment that was openly hostile rather than subtly dangerous.
