In the relentless fog of our last voyage, there lies a nameless isle. Here, the air is thick with unspeakable echoes—vibrations from the ethereal, it is whispered.
Map Observations: Beware: unknown entities stir in the stillness. The cliffs curve away and seem to extend into nonexistence, dropping into quiet abysses.
Intricate passageways twist beneath shadowy oak canopies—gates lock without doors. Voices shimmer on the traces of unwalked paths. The old built realms once known to scholars—shunned by those who have glimpsed such dust-drenched halls.
We charted this soil under a canopy of souls. Each step, a knell; silence pressed against life respiring not. Lanterns show the faces of the departed, but only the bravest claim to witness.
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