The North of the Underworld was a region that breathed like an open wound. The territory's name was already a feared whisper: Last Night. There, the infernal flames did not illuminate like the rest of Hell; the sky was eternally dark, starless, only a blanket of pitch cut by occasional lightning that exploded within the crater itself.
The city grew around what everyone simply called The Mouth—the gigantic crater that gave access to the Abyss, the forbidden border that even the Demon Kings treated with caution. From it rose a cold wind, permeated with a dry, metallic smell, and those who approached could hear murmurs, distorted voices that seemed to try to persuade any living being to jump in.
