Sky Spire

The ascent to its gates feels like a pilgrimage.

Voices don’t carry here. Even footsteps sound softer than usual. The city below lives by its own rhythm — the drone of engines, the rustle of cloaks.

From within comes the steady hum of systems, the breath of machines that never sleep.
Every beam of light that falls across the floor seems to weigh your every step.

And somewhere high above, beyond the clouds, waits the one who built this world.

To enter is to accept that the path upward always begins below.

"Some see it as a fortress. Others — a temple.
But all who enter become part of the Spire."