Through the Ceramic Pass

The floor stretched vast and empty, so I marched south toward the towering ceramic pedestals near the balcony. A broad clay pot blocked the direct crossing. I did not circle around. I pressed my shoulder against the coarse terracotta, testing its bulk, then mounted the thick, gravelly soil bed inside. Smooth obsidian pebbles lay scattered among the dry roots. I dug my stance deep into the dark gravel, overlooking the wide sea of rug beneath. It was a sturdy vantage.