The Heart of the Slab

a perfect cube of seamless melted stone that has resisted 3,000 years of attempts to break, move, or even understand it. The cube itself is barely five meters long, three meters on each side, but its presence dominates the space. Every surface is covered in flowing Turl'balan script that seems to shift in the corner of your eye. There is no door, no seam, no weakness. Inside lie the remains of three beings who learned to hold so much magic that they punched through the mortal realm itself, sinking through to the Silent Sea to become gods. The cube doesn't sit in open air anymore. Centuries of construction have built a man-made cavern around it

a chaotic cathedral of salvaged wood, rope, and desperation. The Slab has grown over and around the Heart, but never touches it. A web of wooden struts, beams, and platforms teeter above and around the structure, each one carefully positioned to avoid contact with the sacred stone. The locals believe touching it brings terrible luck, or worse. A low vestibule entrance (perfect for a marsh elf's height) leads into a cramped room filled with three millennia of idols, icons, and offerings to countless gods. Fresh offerings sit next to ancient relics. Mementos of the Slab's dead are tucked into every crack and crevice of the surrounding structure.