A vast capital city designed in concentric rings, each layer rising in elevation as it nears the center. The outermost ring is worn and grimy, filled with crooked streets, dense slums, and smoke-choked alleys—homes made of mismatched stone, patched timber, and rusting iron. This low-class district teems with life and hardship, its people toiling beneath a sky hazed with ash. The middle ring is broader, neater, and bustling—lined with orderly streets, market halls, forges, and merchant houses. Buildings here are built from polished brick and reinforced wood, decorated with colorful banners and etched guild emblems. This working-class district is alive with trade, the sound of tools, and the scent of bread, ink, and hot steel. The innermost ring rises like a throne above the rest—an elegant, fortified enclave where marble walkways, flowering courtyards, and arched glass windows dominate the skyline. Towers of white stone and silver trim overlook the lower rings like sentinels. Here, the elite dwell in curated serenity, surrounded by magic, history, and power. At the very heart of the city, dwarfing all else, stands an obsidian spire—impossibly tall, smooth, and reflective. Its surface gleams like black glass, absorbing the sun’s light, casting long shadows over the city below. It hums faintly with ancient energy, crowned by a single violet flame that never extinguishes. The spire is both feared and revered, its origin lost to time, its purpose still fiercely guarded by the See more