In the quiet hours before dawn, the air tasted of salt and expectation. Beyond the weathered gate, the horizon whispered secrets of distant lands, unseen yet vividly imagined. As the gatekeeper, I stood watch, not as a warden of barriers, but as a guardian of possibilities through the endless sea.
The gate itself was a relic, marked with the imprints of time and the gentle caress of the ocean breeze. It creaked softly, a lullaby of wood and iron, inviting those who dared step closer to the whispering horizon.
Open the Gate