Dante descended into the fourth circle of Hell, his footsteps echoing on the worn stones as the environment around him drastically changed. Unlike the chaotic winds of lust or the fetid mud of gluttony, this circle was a barren landscape of rocky desolation and darkness. A faint glow emanated from the ground, illuminating just enough to reveal the details of the torment before him.
Mountains of gold, jewels, and wealth were piled around, but there was no beauty or order to them. They were chaotic heaps, grotesque representations of greed and prodigality. Tormented souls, thin and miserable, pushed enormous circular weights, spheres of stone or metal, with endless effort. The sounds of groaning and screams echoed through the heavy air, while other souls, equally condemned, pushed against them in the opposite direction.