Control
The horizon bled crimson as the last bastion of the Old Kingdom smoldered, its spires clawing at ash-choked skies. You tighten your grip on the relic blade—its whispers harmonizing with the pulse thrumming in your temples. Shadows coil beyond the ruins, shapes shifting in the haze. They’ve been waiting. Centuries of silence shattered by your trespass. The air reeks of iron and memory. Your boot grinds against a fractured crest embedded in the dust—a forgotten house’s sigil, once pride now powder. Every step forward unravels the past; every breath tastes of inevitability. The gate looms, its archway a jagged maw. Beyond it, the resonance grows louder, a chord struck between destiny and delirium. You don’t look back. There’s no currency in regret here, only the calculus of survival. The blade hums. The dark stirs. Your choices crystallize—forge into the unknown or become another ghost in this graveyard of empires. The threshold doesn’t care. It only awaits.
description
Steve, leap—no room for error!
