Rytha was falling from the air, her body plummeting faster than she could react, the sensation of freefall engulfing her like a cruel embrace.
As she fell, all she could see around her was towering skyscrapers, impossibly tall and alien in their architecture.
These colossal structures spiraled upward into the heavens and were made of smooth silver and black metal, their surfaces reflecting distorted fragments of the world around her. The further she fell, the more these spires multiplied, stretching upward and outward into the horizon, bending space as they went along.
There was no horizon here, no tangible endpoint—just a sprawling maze of skyscrapers reaching for a sky that didn't exist. The dizzying heights made her head spin as she twisted in the air, trying to gain her bearings.