At the bottom of a shallow crater, a pool of lava seethes and spits, its surface breaking around three small islands of blackened stone. Along the southeastern shore glitters a great deposit of blue crystal, and from it jagged arcs of raw energy lash out to strike the westernmost island, where the ground has been scorched to a charred ruin.

There are places in the Worldwound where the wall between realities wears dangerously thin — and this is one of the thinnest. Once these islands rose crystal-crowned from the waters of the Gray Road; now they smolder in a lake of molten rock, and the influence of the Abyss presses close and hungry against the air.

Power crackles here, wild and untamed, spilling through the wounded barrier between worlds. It is a perilous, otherworldly place — beautiful and deadly in the same breath — where the ground itself bears the mark of forces no mortal was meant to touch. To stand here is to stand at the edge of the Abyss, and to press on takes a courage few possess.