The pool of blood shuddered, waves lapping at its edge as the walkway retracted and the outermost ring began revolving, suspended in thin air. It passed through the liquid as if it weren’t even there, causing no disturbance. Then came the middle, and the inner ring; somehow their motion wrapped the avatar in its own chains, an impossible quantity of blood flowing outward from it and filling in the rings’ grooves.

It was at this point that the diamond-shaped idol at the upper platform rose above the head of its statue, splitting at the equator as its halves parted and revealed a circular hole in the world, a sphere so black it surpassed colour or light. Zel recognized it as a Philosopher’s Stone, because such an artifact was used as the core of a Philosopher’s Heart, the most prized possession of a certain swordsman-alchemist she knew. The avatar’s blood flowed through the air in a three-pronged spiral, entering into the stone and causing it to erupt with head-splitting iridescent unlight.

Of the four, only Zefaris could bear to witness what came next, and even then she felt the need to squint. She mustered every shred of focus available to her towards imprinting a mnemonic record of the image in her mind, hoping to transfer it to a physical image later. The door’s three segments slid out of the way, revealing nothing more than a solid blackstone wall with numerous deep grooves carved into it in the form of a spiral.

The warble of the avatar’s voice resounded again.

“I AM THE GATE, THE KEY, THE PATH. OPEN!”

A blinding ray of cosmic unlight erupted forth from the Philosopher’s Stone. In that same moment, the avatar’s form was crushed by its own chains, leaving only a bloody tangle of metal draped about the inner ring as the grotesque assembly came to a halt. The diamond closed, floating back into place as the party regained their sight, Zefaris staring wide-eyed at the opening which had been made. A cylindrical passage yawned beyond the doorway, its interior shimmering with otherworldly iridescence; it was not a Fog Gate, but it was clearly not a normal passageway either. They could plainly see a well illuminated blackstone chamber at the other end.

Upon a reluctant and utterly bewildered examination of the passway’s edge, Victor stammered out: “What is… That doesn’t…”

Jorfr walked past him right into the passage, cutting him off: “After what just transpired you still think to question? It would be wise not to question the acts of a god too deeply.”

Grumbling in frustration Vic got up and followed, just as Zel and Zef also entered the passage, with Zel still examining the brass stake. Zef just looked dead-ahead, ignoring the iridescent walls and floor. Vic continued looking around in spite of the visible headache trying to parse what he saw was causing him, rambling: “There still has to be some method to the madness, even avatars of divinity can’t just break the rules! It wouldn’t need to have sacrificed itself otherwise! An- And the incantation, and the light, it all lines up with documented examples of sacrifices used to open Fog Gates! That… That stone, and that assembly - it has to be those components, somehow!”

“There were also the minor facts that the caster was an embodied fragment of a god, sacrificed itself, had numerous amplification mediums like that huge mechanism, and a Dungeon Core’s strength to fuel it…” Zel listed off in a facetious tone using the brass stake to point to her fingers, prompting an annoyed grumble from her disciple tacitly signifying his surrender.

Zel looked back for a moment once they reached the other end, expecting the tunnel to collapse or vanish somehow, only for Jorfr to clarify: “It will remain open for a while. Possibly weeks, if the molemen are to be believed.”

Shrugging, she moved on. It wasn’t long before they reached another great dungeon-esque door, which opened up to an L-shaped cliff ledge over a cavern filled with greenery not found anywhere on the surface, strange twisting trees with purple wood and orange leaves growing in harmony with bioluminiscent mushrooms, great beetles and six-legged lizards drinking from a river that originated from an obviously artificial spring at the other side of the cave. It was all illuminated by several great towers, topped by what appeared to be miniature suns and connected by burning-orange streams of essentia. One such stream flowed off into a hole in the left-hand wall, passing through it to an unseen adjoining chamber.

“I… I’m fucking sorry, Suncage Grid pylons underground? And how come they work?” Zefaris questioned in a state of resigned bewilderment.

“You will see,” Jorfr said, moving on. “Come, we are not far off.”

Truly, they were not far off. In fact, the explanation for the pylons’ presence and operational status awaited them only a short trek further, going downwards through a series of caves that led to a much lower-positioned cliff shelf. A long, relatively shallow stairway led down from the shelf, but that was the last thing to grab any of their attention.

No, it was the view: The cavern’s back wall was the Blackwall itself and a gigantic Ankhezian temple stood sentinel and cold at the back of the great cavern, wrought entirely of blackstone with golden accents and roofing, its architectural style completely contrasting the Three Kings Era stylings which they had come to associate with blackstone. It looked as though it was part of the blackwall.

Half a dozen Suncage Grid pylons were arrayed in a hexagonal pattern about the chamber, the sixth being placed where one would expect the cathedral’s belfry. White flowers dominated the cave floor, a sprawling field of these blooms only occasionally broken up by gnarled trees of dark-purple wood and pale blue flowers. They were densest at the towers’ bases, taking on a lilac hue in these places. The river from the adjoining chamber continued on flowing through this one, snaking unnaturally away from the great towers.

There, above it all, was the source of the light in the cavern, and the source of all the solar flame flowing down into the pylons.