This room is fashioned of slate-gray marble, a thick mist hanging at the top of the room, making the ceiling nearly invisible. The marble, once smooth, is now rough and cracked. A huge crack has been torn in the center of the room, a hindrance, though it will not stop one with determination from walking around the room. The rock is crumbling, coating the floor near the crack with wet sludge. The rest of the room is damp, wet, uncomfortable. The mist that holds the room in its grasp taints the room with a foul odor, reminiscent of sulfur. The walls are covered in miniscule cracks, chips of stone flaking onto the floor. The only object of interest in this dismal room is an orb, rotating slowly. The globe is blackened, charred, attacked by cracks of bright, orange. The colors bubble and move, black clouds spawning violent storms upon the surface, revealing only a fraction of the chaos within. The only exit is to the north, the aged marble giving way to raw rock.