Inside the dome everything was fine.
Gomorrah thrived inside the concealed space. Magic and technology danced across the trance-inducing megacity. Schoolgirls polished pimples with magic sparkles. Workers hauled tons of steel and copper hundreds of stories into the air using gestures and earth magic.
The origin of magic remains a fleeting answer.
Some believed the Firmament caused it.
Others said the two events happened together.
Historical records insisted it was coincidence.
A man slithered through the halls of a government building.
Republic of the Last City splattered across the walls like fresh ink.
Technically, they were right.
Centuries ago, a cataclysmic climate fallout burned the world to a crisp. Solar storms raged beyond the dome. Acidic oceans churned with violent tides. The skies burned red with cosmic malice.
With time running out, the greatest engineers of the age constructed the Firmament—a half-sphere rising ten miles into the sky and stretching fifty miles across.
The last of humanity flocked inside and survived.
Now everyone was safe. Life was good. Everything was dandy.
Till it wasn't.