The air around the Portal of the Forgotten shimmers with a strange, restless energy. Currents of warmth battle icy drafts, tugging at the cloaks of the sentinel who stands resolute. No monument built by mortal hands could achieve such vastness, such terrible beauty. The sentinel's gaze never strays from its surface, as if seeking answers in its shimmering depths.

They say that on certain nights, the Portal weeps tears of starlight, drawn from the fabric of other worlds. Some believe these are remnants of the lives consumed by its passage. Others whisper they are seeds, planted for a new world to blossom if– or when– our own finally falls to dust. Whether a gateway or a grave, the Portal of the Forgotten looms, a testament to forces beyond our knowing, caught in a relentless dance of creation and oblivion ∞DV∞

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