Control
The ancient citadel loomed over the desolate plains, its obsidian spires piercing stormclouds that crackled with forgotten magic. Centuries of decay had done little to erode the aura of dread clinging to its fractured battlements—a testament to the cataclysms birthed within those walls. Now whispers surged among frontier towns: lights flickering in the tower windows, shadows moving against logic, a low hum resonating through bedrock. Mercenaries and zealots alike gathered at the foot of the causeway, driven by greed or grim duty, unaware that the citadel’s awakening demanded more than blood or gold. Its hunger was older, deeper, a void that had waited patiently for the arrogance of mortal ambition to pry open doors better left sealed.
description
The coastal kingdom of Varynn chokes beneath the Tideborn’s wrath—surging tides devouring villages, serpentine abominations coiling around crumbling spires. Only the Goldblade, forged in the heart of a drowned god-king’s fury, can pierce their aqueous flesh. Its edge hums with storm-light, a relic older than the kingdom’s drowned cathedrals. Rally the scattered resistance. Dive into ink-black trenches where leviathans guard the Vortex Crown, source of the Tideborn’s immortality. Shatter it. Let the blade’s resonance ripple through the depths, severing cursed bonds. Villagers stagger from barnacled chains as spires rise anew from the foam. The sea retreats, hissing. Dawn breaks—not with silence, but the roar of freed waves and the Goldblade’s song, sharp as vengeance.
