She waved her hand again, dismissing the chaotic storm of the Elemental Realm. The fire, water, and lightning. She seemed to be getting bored with the lecture, her gestures becoming faster, less detailed.
"Then," she said, summoning a new illusion that bathed the dark temple in a warm, honey-colored light, "you have the Verdant Realm of the Elves."
Sol looked around. The void had vanished, replaced by an endless expanse of forests and meadows bathed in eternal golden-hour sunlight. It was a world that looked like it had been painted with liquid gold and chlorophyll.
"The sun never sets here," Isylia explained, shielding her eyes mockingly. "It casts an eternal glow over trees that are older than your continents. And the inhabitants... well, they are annoying perfectionists."
She pointed to a figure walking through the phantom grass.
