The forest ends soon, bordering a glassy wasteland that reflects the odd sky above. Shards of dark glass jut out of the plain, most small, many human sized or larger, some towering over even the taller trees. Their depths shift, almost liquid, but it's hard to discern colors - it's dark and distant, and the reflected auroras wash out the deeper glass.
Past that is a low rise of mountains rimmed with swirls of pink and purple light, that shimmers into a golden halo around the most distant and highest peak. It's maybe twenty more minutes of walking to the edge of the glass wasteland, and an hour or two to what seems to be the foothills of the mountains. There's no one actually visible -
There's movement, on the wasteland. But it doesn't seem fully human. Too large, motion shutter-stop and jerky, silhouette hard to see but unnatural. Humans don't have that many arms.