The southern edge of the Zenith Arch opened onto a ledge where the world simply ceased to have a floor.
Ren Prime stood upon a narrow shelf of fiery dark rock, leaning his weight against his oak walking stick. The wind that blew up from the deep pit didn’t carry the bitter, biting chill of the upper peaks. It was warm, thick with the scent of melted quartz, ozone, and the deep, humid musk of underground water beds.
Three thousand feet directly below him lay the true floor of the Sunken Crater.
From this height, the bottom of the volcano bowl looked like a sprawling sea of eerie-glowing amethyst. Vast columns of semi-clear, singing quartz rose from the dark earth like crystal-clear redwoods. Their many-sided crowns glowed with internal violet and amber starlight. Between the quartz spires, rivers of glowing stone salt water wound through fields of black sand, exhaling gentle, rhythmic plumes of violet steam that drifted upward through the deep gap.
Mira stood beside him, her left hand resting on his shoulder.
Her smoky quartz right arm was uncovered to the collarbone. Beneath the warm updraft, the crystal skin no longer felt cold to the touch. It was lukewarm, like river stone left in the summer sun. The delicate chime in her chest had slowed to a steady, rhythmic pulse that matched the deep, underground breathing of the volcano bowl.
