On a plateau shrouded in mist, above a steep precipice, rise the ruins of Shadowdale Castle—a fortress so ancient that even the chronicles of the kingdoms no longer mention its true name. Of its once-great walls, all that remains are shattered towers, collapsed arches, and stones covered in phosphorescent moss, which glow faintly at night, like a reminder of a lost power.
Those who have been there say that the ruins do not seem to be built solely by human hands. The stone blocks are joined with a precision that medieval craftsmen could never have achieved: the surfaces are perfectly smooth, cut as if by a blade of light, not the chisel of time. On some fragments of the wall, geometric symbols and fine lines can still be seen that seem to vibrate when touched, emanating a faint, inexplicable warmth.