Relics: Remnants Time Refused to Bury
Worn by time or shattered in defiance, these remnants endure where all else has faded. Scarred by conflict, buried in ash, or hidden beneath stone, they persist—not because they were meant to, but because something refuses to let them go. They are pieces of something greater, fragments of stories that once shaped the world and now linger in silence.
Some stir reverence, others an uneasy chill. A broken mask. A rusted crown. A flame that never dies. Each carries a weight that cannot be measured, a presence that asks nothing and says everything. Their meaning may be lost to time, but their presence still speaks—to memory, to myth, to whatever remains awake in the soul.
To uncover one is not just to find what was left behind—it is to stir something that remembers. They are not simply discovered. They are disturbed. And what they once meant may be far less dangerous than what they now become.
Fingers danced across the gilded strings, coaxing light with each note. A man in the corner froze mid-laugh, the sound caught in his throat. "That song…" he murmured, brow furrowing. "I know that—" The next chord stole the thought. The bard smiled faintly, not missing a beat. "You did," they whispered, almost tender. "But it’s mine now."
Some things survive because they must.