A fractured spiral of interlocking shards stretches outward, each segment etched with angular glyphs from lost tongues. At its center, five jagged silhouettes—the Knights—dissolve into a luminous void, their remnants flickering like afterthoughts. The palette hums between muted battlefield grays and flashes of forgotten brilliance, shifting in a slow but inexorable rhythm. Time itself warps along the spiral’s path, where the weight of fallen cycles presses toward an uncanny convergence.
sageanomaly.com
