In the sea of crimson stands The Jade. An unfathomably large wall of green stone crossing the red desert from horizon to horizon, stretching up to the clouds. In all the years since its appearance, only one imperfection has been found. Otherwise untarnished, they only way through the wall is The Gateway.
A few dozen feet above the dry plains, pearlescent protrusions seem to grow from the wall itself. Unnerving living stone flexes and writhes behind a layer of protective pale chitin. They chitter and grind against each other, a low vibration of sound that seeps into the bones. Between the maw of stone is the only route through The Jade, a rent in its fabric allowing passage.
Do the sentinels adjoined to the passage act as guards or hosts, or are they a symptom of the corrupted perfection of the wall. None can tell you the answer for those few who have been brave enough to venture through have never returned.