shanesargent1

Millennia ago, the skies tore open. Storms rolled like a judgment across the horizon, and a strange mist engulfed the world; not to destroy it, but to rewrite it. That mist did not fade into history. It left a lingering pressure in the bones of the world, a living aftershock that still shapes every forest, ruin, river, and road. In Shroudwake, the wondrous is not a distant legend. It is part of the everyday. Forests can stir with sentience. Rivers can feel older than life. Creatures do not...