In the pallid moon's cradle, where shadows gather like smoke upon the wind,
lies the realm of Trindewan — a name whispered among haunted halls and ivy-clad ruins.
The stars here do not twinkle; they blink in arcane languages,
casting shadows of creatures forgotten by time and space, where visions bleed into reality.
The air here tastes of iron and the forgotten blood of deities old and weary,
stained crimson by the weeping of stars.
Venture further into the labyrinth of dreams,
where reality's hues blend in a tapestry unsung: