YFG-Aarchy, The waves roar against the jagged rocks below, their restless energy crashing and receding in a rhythm as old as the stars. I stand at the edge of this fractured world, my gaze fixed on the fortress that rises defiantly from the chaos. Its lights burn warm and steady, a fragile defiance against the cold, unyielding expanse of sea and sky. The air tastes of salt and iron, heavy with the weight of storms yet to come. Above, the sky swirls with cosmic colors, as if the universe itself is watching, silent and indifferent. The swirling clouds seem almost alive, their hues of purple and orange whispering of endings and beginnings I cannot grasp. The fortress stands alone, distant yet commanding, a relic of hope or hubris—I can’t decide which. Its metallic walls gleam against the dying light, a beacon of humanity’s resilience, or perhaps its arrogance. Around it, smaller shapes drift in the mist, their purpose obscured but their presence a reminder that even in desolation, life lingers. The rocks beneath me tremble with the force of the waves, a reminder of nature's relentless power. And yet, I can’t look away from the fortress, its lights like a heartbeat in the void. I wonder if it holds answers or merely echoes of questions no one dared to ask. For now, I linger, caught between the sea's fury and the sky's infinite expanse, unsure which will claim me first.