The sheer scale of the Dry Wards was something you couldn't fully appreciate until you were standing in the middle of it. As Krave dragged me down the cobblestone streets, I took a moment to just observe the impossible architecture of the Aethelgard Dukedom's tourist trap.
Above us, the golden dome of the ward held back a literal ocean. The magic was so dense it warped the light, casting a perpetual, shimmering sunset glow over the stone buildings. I could see the massive, dark silhouettes of deep-sea predators gliding lazily across the other side of the barrier, their pale, colourful underbellies scraping against the magical membrane. Every now and then, a massive tentacle or a plated fin would bump against the ward, sending a deep, resonant thrum vibrating through the cobblestones beneath my boots.
