The sight of the abandoned fortress loomed in the distance, its silhouette jagged and foreboding against the gray sky. As Lyra, Victor, and Sylvia approached, the terrain beneath their feet shifted from cracked and barren earth to uneven cobblestones overgrown with weeds and moss. The path leading up to the fortress—once a grand entrance road—was now fractured, with gnarled roots breaking through the stone like twisted veins.
Their journey to the fortress had been long and grueling, the barren landscape stretching endlessly before them. The sparse vegetation was dry and brittle, the occasional dead tree standing like a solitary sentinel amidst the wasteland.
The air was dry and heavy, carrying with it the faint scent of decay and sand. Every step was a reminder of how far they had come, and the oppressive silence of the land seemed to weigh on them more with each passing hour.
