Last Stand

At the edge of the kingdom, where the wind scours the cliffs and the earth gives way to barren wasteland, stands a lonely fortress. Its walls are old, its soldiers weary, yet still it keeps watch over a land long shunned and seldom spoken of. In the shadow of forgotten wars and fading oaths, the bastion endures—waiting for the day when silence breaks. "Upon the cliffs where dead winds wail, A fortress clings, forgotten, frail. Its stones are scarred, its banners torn, A watchtower where no dawn is born."