Drawing closer, the silhouette of the Bastion sharpened, revealing its sheer, angular walls that seemed to rise directly from the mountain itself. High above, the fortress crowning the summit was a marvel of austere elegance, its spires clawing at the sky as if to ward off any who dared approach. The occasional gleams of sunlight off the polished stone made the structure itself seem to stand with pride.
At the mountain's base, waves lapped against the dark stones, serving as natural defenses for anything attempting to approach from behind the Bastion's high walls. When the ship rounded the island city, the air grew cooler, carrying a faint metallic tang, as if the presence of steel—blades, armor, or both—permeated the very atmosphere.
