At the farthest reaches of the North Sea, on the border of the Returning Ruins Rift.
This place could no longer be described as an ordinary part of the ocean.
The seawater was a viscous, ink-like black that reflected no light, an abyss that seemed to swallow all light sources.
A nauseating sliminess clung to the currents.
No fish swam here, no algae grew, not even the smallest plankton existed.
Only an eternal, suffocating, deathly silence remained.
Thirty thousand fathoms below the surface, there was neither light nor darkness, only endless pressure.
A massive platform forged entirely from Returning Ruins Sinking Iron floated silently here.
The platform was a perfect octagon, each side nine hundred and ninety-nine fathoms long. Its surface was inscribed with ancient, hair-thin draconic script, packed densely together.
