I have no voice, yet I tell a story. I have no heartbeat, yet I rest upon your skin. I can be born from fire, forged from time, or pulled from the dark depths of the sea. Kings have fought for me, and lovers exchange me to make a promise.

I am born from wet grains on a summer beach, Or raised in heavy stone beyond a dragon's reach. I have a keep, a drawbridge, and a crown of square-cut stone, Yet I can crumble to the waves or stand for centuries alone.

In days of yore, a chalice bright, dost holdeth the nectar of night. As knights doth await, their thirst to sate, for jousts or in festive delight.

I'm big and strong. I was once wildly known as the ox that Europeans wished to be gone. Now I'm cattle, and when found in the wild, I'm no longer by the hundreds as humans know, disease is running wild.

In the heart of stone and shadow, where warriors lose their way, A twisted path of ancient echoes, where no straight sword may sway. Conquer this maze, the prize is yours to claim, Here the fierce and bold may wander, seeking glory and fame.