The world of Eryndor lay on the brink of oblivion, blanketed by a crimson sky that shuddered with each thunderous clash and crack of dark magic. Once lush valleys and ancient forests had turned into twisted, desolate landscapes, littered with the ruins of cities and shattered remnants of civilization. The sun, now only a faint, distorted glow behind ashen clouds, cast an eerie half-light across the land, suffusing everything in a haunting, blood-red hue. Shadows lurked everywhere, writhing and pulsating as if alive, infested with creatures born of nightmare, clawed and grotesque beings exuding a palpable malevolence.