The Shattered Seas

A desolate expanse of fine black sand stretches beneath jagged cliffs, the sky above always choked with low-hanging storm clouds. Lightning flickers constantly on the horizon, yet thunder never comes. The beach is unnervingly silent—no gulls, no waves, no wind. Only the crunch of boots on volcanic sand breaks the stillness. Shipwreck fragments litter the shore, warped and blackened, their crews long lost. Compass needles spin aimlessly the moment they touch the beach, and even the stars vanish behind the eternal storm. Some say the sand itself drinks sound, or that the island was once the site of a great betrayal, and the silence is its punishment. Few dare to land here willingly—and none linger without reason.

The black sand glistens ominously, contrasting sharply with the dark, jagged cliffs that loom overhead. The air is thick with an unsettling stillness, broken only by the crunch of boots on the volcanic sand.