Shrine of the Severed Gaze

The head of a once-revered colossus lies broken, its eye socket gouged, its features eroded by time and unholier things. What remains is a defiled sanctuary—an open wound in the world, repurposed by heretics as a shrine to something ancient and watching.

A scorched pentagram marks the stone like a ritual brand. Around it, candles burn with unnatural flame, flickering even when windless. Bone charms and rusted relics dangle from makeshift altars, their meaning lost to sane minds.

Locals speak of the "Severed Gaze"—a presence that lingers, sensing, judging. It’s said if you meet its stare, even through the void where its eye once was, something looks back.