Pacthold was the place connecting the Outer Region and the Midlands. It stood like a natural door between the two lands—the only passage anyone could use because, on both sides, the ground broke away into two bottomless abysses that disappeared into darkness.
No one knew who the original founder had been, why the place was built, or what purpose it once served. Even so, those with enough knowledge recognized it for what it was: a place as old as the known Gods. People spoke its name the way they spoke of ancient relics, carefully, as if the wrong tone might invite trouble.
But these days, Pacthold served a simpler role. It had become a gathering point for races and travelers who wanted to pass between the two regions.
In practice, it functioned like a customs gate. People would arrive, wait their turn, get inspected, and then either receive permission to pass or be turned back.
