قائمة المقارنة

You set camp, the crackle of damp pine the only barrier against the encroaching dark. Elara speaks of a "sleeping titan" beneath the hills, whose breath creates the fog that has stranded the local villages for generations. She offers you the key, claiming it unlocks a watchtower that hasn't seen a flame in fifty years.

The rain in the Peninsula doesn't just fall; it judges. It seeps through the boiled leather of your armor and settles into your bones, a constant reminder that you are a stranger in a land that prefers its secrets buried.

As dusk bleeds into a bruised purple, you find a leaning milestone. Huddled against it is a figure wrapped in a tattered gray cloak.

: She claims she was cast out from a nearby hamlet for "seeing the wind," but her eyes reflect a hunger that isn't for food.