Whispering across the remnants of an old conflict, the wind carried whispers of a history long buried in darkness and remorse. I stood at the door of a site prohibited for centuries under a sky the hue of bruised twilight—a secret kept locked away by people who knew too much and dreaded the repercussions of memory.
The Crescent Mark on my arm throbbed with an unrelenting beat, a steady reminder that the blood of our ancestors ran through my veins, linking me to a lineage of greatness and sacrifice. But behind its constant rhythm lied a more disturbing reality: the forbidden past was alive. Hidden in the depths of time, it had been waiting for the moment when its discoveries would rip apart the delicate present.
