Defiance of the Fall

The purple breach allowed entry without resistance or complaint, saving the group from having to endure its purple beams of concentrated corruption point-blank. The blindingly bright remnants of the Polaris Vault were instantly gone, with not so much as a wisp of starlight leaking from the main plane.

It was like the Dao knew better than entering this god-forgotten chasm. Zac wondered if they made the wrong choice picking this confusing, deadly vista over the sun. The scorching flames were at least quantifiable, understandable. This bubble of twisted memories was simply chaos, and not the kind Zac was familiar with.

At least, that was what Zac believed he was seeing. There was no purple mist to block their vision, but that didn't do much to help Zac orient himself among the millions of visions phasing in and out of existence in every direction.

There were grand palaces of alien make, patches of dirt holding the final vestiges of eroded ruins, and everything in between. It wasn't just structures, either. Scenes, people, a chorus of sounds and voices. Even emotions and concepts were represented by mind-bending visions.

Nothing was constant. Everything inside the Lost Plane was in a transient state, with most winking out too quickly for Zac to register their shape. What little Zac managed to grasp made his hair stand on end. Like the Dead Dao, the memories had been twisted, exuding the same forbidding horror and decay as the plane itself.

The visions didn't particularly target their group. They didn't even seem to notice their existence. Rather, the visions participated in an internal struggle, seemingly trying to devour each other. It was impossible not to draw parallels with the chaotic environment of the Imperial Graveyard. Seeing the Lost Plane, Zac even wondered if the graveyard's perpetually unstable state was the result of leakage from this realm.

There was no sense of resentment coming from the visions, though. There was only desire. Desire to exist, to become real, to not fade into that eternal night.

Zac wasn't looking around out of idle curiosity. They needed a plan before moving out, as blindly flying about was bound to end in disaster. They were already courting death by infringing on the Lost Plane. Even the Ra'Lashar Goblins knew better, only sending skills and soul threads inside in their search for knowledge.

There were no Qriz'Ul, but the dangers they faced were very real. Instead of purple mist, the Lost Plane was permeated by a wrongness on an existential level. When facing the corruption in the lake water or the Centurion Base, it had always been the invader encroaching on a hostile environment. Now, the roles were reversed.