The Ineluctable Prison hangs like a spined sphere three thousand feet across, suspended over a churning caldera of black water by immense chains anchored to the surrounding mountains. From a ledge near the pit, a single rope bridge — twenty feet wide and well over a mile long — stretches out across the abyss to the prison's lone entrance.

Rickety as it looks, the bridge is solid and secure, and it is very nearly the only safe way in. Cascades of black water thunder down from the peaks to plunge two miles into a bottomless lake below, a lake that never rises no matter how much falls into it. Fly too high, and the prison's spines flex and wake, loosing volleys of enormous barbs at any airborne intruder.

To cross this span is to walk a thread above a two-mile drop, in full view of a fortress bristling with impaled corpses and hungry spikes. Every step forward is a step deeper into Baphomet's domain — a long, exposed approach that tests your nerve before the true trials even begin.