No place is more unnatural than the treacherous geological scars they call Agowl. A series of vast elongated crevasses that tear through the sharp rock as if a titanic set of claws had eviscerated the earth from the inside. The caverns are entirely barren of concretions or landmarks. In fact, nothing ever changes in these caverns. Buried deep in a thick shield of impermeable dark rock these places are devoid of evolution and empty of meaning. Time doesn’t pass there it lingers in perfect stillness and silence.
Only in a remote branch of the upper Agowl does water flow from the Selvei in a tormented rapid crashing through the jagged edges. This is where the long procession to the depths starts. Along the irrigation conduits carved so long ago runs a narrow winding path to Vraenk, the cursed colony from a deep past.
Despite not being used for centuries the ancient infrastructure hasn’t aged in the absence of the elements and makes the descent bearable. All around, erect teeth and claws of stone surround treacherous crevasses the depth of which can not be seen. Any step into the blackness surrounding the steep trail is a step towards a certain death in the loneliest agony.
As we pass from one monumental crack to the next through narrow passages, resting space is sparse and hours go by. Entering the cursed lower Agowl a deep sentiment of dread envelopes the traveler. One could say every angle and shape is off-putting in Agowl. The emptiness is filled with secrets and the landscape is despised by all life. It is an undescribable visceral blend of unjustified hatred and fear that steps alongside us in this unsettling pilgrimage to one of the furthest and largest cracks. A handful of miserable walking days from the Selvei, an unfinished archway announces the grim destination. A coarse carved road runs downhill like a nerve down a fractured spine. Far in the distance of this last terrible chasm is Vraenk, the purgatory.