Beneath the roiling waves, a symphony thrums, a lament from ages untold. The moon, cloaked in silver mist, listens mournfully as the tides weave tales from distant epochs. Ships carved from night sail upon this unseen sea, their decks haunted by the whispers of drowned sailors.
In the heart of their journey, a young woman finds a compass—not of iron, but of dreams. It spins wildly before settling, pointing not to north but to the past, where a forgotten kingdom crumbles in its eternal twilight. She follows its pull, stepping into the current, her fate entwined with the ocean's dark heartbeat.
The gothic towers of Arkathal watch silently from the cliffs, their crumbling stones bearing witness to the passage of centuries. By day, they are mere shadows; by night, they are alive, breathing with the sighs of those who once called them home. Here, the air is thick with the scent of salt and secrets, the sea's edge a boundary between worlds.
It is said that the caress of the sea breeze carries the echo of a song—a lullaby for the lost and a call to the wanderers. Such is the power of this melody that it bends the very fabric of time, drawing souls destined for different realms into its mournful embrace.