Zemin stumbled on uneven, glassed ground and made two steps forward, instinctively regaining his balance.
He imagined the demon camp would be something like their barricades—grotesque and vile to the extreme—but the real thing was mostly just disorienting.
It was dark here, like the day turned to sunset in an instant. The only light came from several reddish lanterns, but it was reflected infinitely in the glassed ground and in the fractured mirror dome that replaced the sky in this place.
Between the strange lights and the reflections, it was incredibly hard to tell what else was there. Zemin's eyes flicked from one thing to another, unable to pick them out and tell what they were. He couldn't even tell how big the place was.
The second thing Zemin noticed was the quiet. All the sounds from the outside were cut off, together with auras of his comrades and enemies. Even his walkie-talkie transmitted only static.
