They stood before the massive opening in the earth for a long time without speaking, not because there was nothing to say, but because the scale of what lay before them crushed every thought before it could form into words, as the Passage Bar stretched across the broken land like a giant scar carved directly into the body of the world, its edges uneven and collapsing, its depth swallowing light itself, and its interior filled with an endless, layered movement of decaying bodies, shifting shadows, and writhing undead forms whose groans blended together into a constant, heavy sound that vibrated through the ground and into their bones.
The air was thick, suffocating, and rotten, carrying the stench of death, decay, burned flesh, and something older and deeper that made the place feel less like a battlefield and more like a living grave that had never stopped feeding.
