The interior was not stone, but light. Gravity felt thin, like a half-remembered dream. As Kaelen climbed the winding, floating staircases, the Spire tested him. It didn’t use monsters; it used .
For a thousand years, the Spire had been a myth—a needle of white stone said to pierce the heavens, built by a forgotten king to reach the gods. But when the Great Eclipse turned day into eternal twilight, the Spire didn't just appear; it grew. It tore through the earth in the center of the capital, a jagged shard of ivory and gold that hummed with a low, bone-shaking frequency. Spire of Glory
At the very peak, where the air was cold enough to crack bone, he found the King of Oryn. The monarch was withered, fused to a throne of glass, his eyes glowing with a terrifying, hollow light. He wasn't reaching for the gods; he was feeding the Spire with the "purity" of the stolen children to keep himself immortal. The Spire of Glory was a siphon. The interior was not stone, but light