The world past the gates didn't look like anything Arthur had seen since arriving in this body.
Everything was bone white. Buildings rose in towers that curved rather than squared off, blue marble capping each one like something poured on top and left to set. White trees lined every path they walked, leaves pale as paper, and above all of it the same canopy from outside the walls stretched on and on, filtering the daylight down into something soft and even.
Far past the rooftops, at the edge of what Arthur could see, a trunk rose out of the earth thick enough to be mistaken for a mountain range. He couldn't find the top of it from here. He wasn't sure it had one, from this angle.
Nothing about Ishkral or Creslan had prepared him for this.
