The dead remember duty longest. Beyond Haven’s walls, twilight smothers corrupted realms. Yet in the Field of Broken Banners, where the last great army fell, something older than despair takes root, Purpose. Forgotten oaths stir in blood-soaked soil as bones rise from hallowed ground. Not a lone hero reborn, but a guardian forged of countless warriors’ final breaths. A silent champion shackled to the last desperate command that ended an age, Hold the line. Protect them all. It bears no name. Needs no flesh. Fears no death. Only the dead remember how to stand guard. Some promises outlast even death.
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