This is inside a big, beautiful tree. Jeweled bark covers it, from the gnarled trunk to the branches that twist hundreds of feet in the air. It glimmers in the sun like a million white diamonds. At the end of each branch, rubies well up like liquid and dribble to the ground, as if the tree is bleeding jewels, the way elves do when their skin is pierced. A spot at the base of the trunk pulses like a heartbeat. With each thrum, it lights up in red lines in a maze-like shape similar to the birthmark that all netherlings have from birth. If a netherling presses their birthmark to that spot, the trunk spins, glittering bark unfurling open like a scroll to expose a doorway. A red glow beckons from within. Through the door is a spiraling staircase. Under the stairs are bones, inter-locked and bound with some kind of shimmery gold twine. No one knows what’s at the end of the staircase.
If a netherling presses their birthmark to that spot, the trunk spins, glittering bark unfurling open like a scroll to expose a doorway. A red glow beckons from within. Through the door is a spiraling staircase. Under the stairs are bones, inter-locked and bound with some kind of shimmery gold twine. No one knows what’s at the end of the staircase.