The capital city of the Obsidian Myriad Kingdom, Myriad Hollow, was a paradox of elegance and dread—a sprawling metropolis carved into the colossal underbelly of the Souldrift Shelf.
Unlike cities built toward the heavens, Myriad Hollow was built downward, like a spiral diving into madness. The deeper one went, the older the stone, the stronger the soul pressure and abyssal spirit Qi, and the closer one came to the forbidden heart of the kingdom.
The uppermost tiers were cast in a permanent crimson twilight, illuminated by the refracted light of the Eternal Moons reflecting off the obsidian ceiling. This district bustled with commerce—merchants, contract peddlers, smiths, and travelers from all over the Abyssal Plains.
Streets of glimmering black stone branched through rows of soul-refining towers, mist-veiled plazas, and markets. The scent of iron, ash, and incense lingered in the air, mixed with the faint aroma of corrupted spirit wine.
