Caelmont was not a city one simply entered—it was a city that judged you. It was a city that could humble even the proudest hearts.
Perched high upon a jagged plateau that seemed carved by divine hands, its vast walls curved in sweeping arcs of silvered stone and black granite, gleaming beneath the rising sun.
The city descended in grand terraces, each level alive with movement, its rooftops adorned with banners that snapped and twisted in the restless mountain winds.
From afar, Caelmont looked like something caught between worlds—part fortress, part celestial jewel—anchored between earth and sky.
And at its heart stood the Aether Throne.
The citadel rose like a shard of the heavens themselves, sculpted from living crystal and pale moonstone. Its towering spires pierced the clouds, shimmering faintly as though the sky poured its very essence into its walls.
