The Final Age of the Gods

[Western Fantasy] [Ensemble Cast]

The rift gulps down the cold mist; dark fumes coil around withered trees.

By day, hollow words hang in the sky; by night, old books lie shrouded in darkness.

The borderland leans on crumbling walls; the wind carries the faint beat of war drums.

Who has ever seen fate's chains? When the fog lifts, only open plains remain.