The sky in the Underworld never changed. A crimson blanket stretched endlessly overhead, crackling with slow-moving streaks of dark lightning. Below, the ground simmered, a vast web of molten rivers and jagged obsidian peaks. The air reeked of sulfur, death and sorrow. No breeze stirred the heat, and the only sounds were the echoing howls and cries of tortured spirits and the low hum of dark energy surging through the realm's walls.
At the heart of this dark and cold underworld stood the Dungeon of Doom, a fortress-prison carved into the hollow of a collapsed mountain. Its walls were bound with the iron bones of fallen giants and sealed with magic older than the stars itself. This was no ordinary prison, it was the graveyard of demons too dangerous to destroy, too powerful to be set free.
