Exterior of the Gallifreyan Citadel

A precipitous drop beyond the Citadel’s armored gates, where the great domes and spires of Gallifrey’s capital plummet into an abyss of cold, swirling mists. The air is thin and laced with the metallic tang of Time Lord technology, carrying the distant hum of the Capitol’s defenses. The ground falls away into jagged rock and crumbling architectures of forgotten ages, a no-man’s-land of exile where only the desperate or condemned are cast. No life endures here long; the outer world is a liminal void, a punishment zone where fire meets ice and the only echo is the wind howling through broken time. To be expelled here is to vanish—either by death or by forces unseen.