Aethelburg Chronomaester's Ruin

The rain stings your face, a cold, needle-prick assault on senses already overwhelmed. The air hangs thick with the metallic tang of blood and the sickly sweet rot of decay. You can't remember how long you've been wandering, a ghost in this skeletal city. Buildings claw at the sky, their windows empty sockets staring into a perpetually bruised horizon. They call it Aethelburg, or at least, they *used* to. Now, it's just a husk, a monument to hubris and a playground for… things. Twisted things, that skulk in the shadows and whisper on the wind. Things that remember, things that *hunt*. You clutch the worn leather journal tighter to your chest. Its pages are filled with faded ink, cryptic diagrams, and frantic scribbles that are only half-comprehensible. It's the only clue you have to your identity, the only anchor to a past that slips further away with each shuddering breath. According to the journal, you are a Chronomaester, a guardian of time itself. It speaks of temporal anomalies, of rifts torn in the fabric of reality, of the creeping corruption that has consumed Aethelburg and threatens to unravel the very threads of existence. But the journal is incomplete, shattered like a broken mirror. Pages are missing, passages are obscured, and the memories it unlocks are fragmented and unreliable. You know you need to find the other fragments, the missing pieces of your past and the key to saving what remains of the future. You are not alone, though. Whispers follow you, voices carried on the wind. Some are desperate pleas for help, others are chilling threats, and still others offer tantalizing glimpses into the truth. Can you trust them? Can you trust yourself? Your journey begins here, in the heart of the ruined city. Every choice you make, every path you take, will ripple through time, altering the very landscape of reality. The fate of Aethelburg, and perhaps the world, rests on your shoulders. Find the fragments. Reclaim your memories. Confront the darkness that consumes Aethelburg. Good luck, Chronomaester. You're going to need it.