A Final Haven ملاحظة قصصية · الجزء 8 من 8

This is it.

Blackmire's final haven — a sunken city, guarded by moor and bramble.

Whoever wanders here shall rest behind a magical gate, the doors of which may only open through buttons stitched in the thicket.

Looking at these crumbling walls fills me with awe... and fear. This city's memories are lost to time, forever slumbering beneath tar. I've mistakenly added a few keepsakes of my own to this hidden treasure trove... not only leaving footprints in the mud, but my very own boots! I shall leave them behind... my garb is weighed down by remembrance and grime.

This makes me wonder... Could humanity be forgotten, just as the stories here were buried? And if we are — if we crack, crumble, and fade to black like the bones below... can we rediscover, and rebuild ourselves? Only the Flameborn will know.

I hope to help build your tomorrow. To carve the path you will blaze, to catch your fall, to raise you higher... I hope my words reach you, constellations apart, an echo through time.

I believe in you, Flameborn.

And one day, I hope to thank you.

— Queen Jezmina of Orindell, 509 D.A.