Picture an ancient castle sitting atop a cliff, overlooking a turbulent sea that crashes violently against the rocks below. The castle itself is in ruins—walls crumbling, towers leaning as if they might collapse at any moment. Vines have overtaken much of the stone, but parts of it remain eerily untouched, as if time has forgotten them. Inside, the main hall is vast, with a ceiling so high it’s lost in shadows. The floor is covered in broken tiles, their patterns still faintly visible beneath the dirt and debris. At the far end of the hall, there’s a massive throne carved from black stone, its surface smooth and polished, unlike the rest of the castle. A single beam of light shines through a crack in the wall, illuminating the throne, and dust particles dance in the air. Near the throne, there’s a rusted sword plunged into the ground, with a faded red ribbon tied to its hilt, fluttering faintly as if moved by an unseen breeze.
29.11.2024 23:24