Beneath Stone and Swallowing Shadow: Where the Light Fails
The cliffs rise high, jagged and cold, their surfaces pitted with time and silence. But it is what lies beneath that draws fear. Hollow passages wind deep into the stone, their walls slick with damp and darker things. No light lingers long within these depths, and even sound seems hesitant to remain.
Whispers echo from cracks no voice should reach, and strange symbols mark the stone—etched not by tools, but by something older. The deeper one goes, the less the world above feels real. Some seek treasure, some answers, some dare to call it curiosity. Few return.
The wind tears through the peaks, carrying the distant roar of waves and the faint scent of smoke. The cliffs stretch skyward, sheer and unyielding, their jagged edges kissed by mist and salt. Below, the sea rages. Beyond, the land smolders. And above it all, the sky waits—vast, endless, and untamed.
A land of towering cliffs and endless fog, the Forgotten Reach stands at the very edge of the world, where the ocean crashes violently against sheer rock walls. There are no beaches, no safe harbors—only jagged stone and the ever-present mist that clings to the land like a shroud.
Ancient ruins cling to the cliffside, their foundations crumbling from centuries of relentless waves. Some say they belonged to a lost civilization, others claim they were abandoned for a reason. At night, eerie lights flicker among the rocks, and the wind carries whispers too distant to be voices, yet too near to be the sea.
Few dare to call this place home, and those who do speak in hushed tones of things moving within the fog, of doors that appear where none should be, of paths that lead somewhere… else. Here, reality itself seems to shift, and those who wander too far may find that the way back is no longer there.
The stone remembers what it swallows.
