Track 36: Eternal Conflict

Track 36: Eternal Conflict rests in your hand as a slender disc of obsidian, its surface kissed with copper sigils that curl into a weathered map of battle lines. The edges are bevelled, smooth to the touch, and when you tilt it to the light you glimpse a faint inner glow, as if the metal remembers a drumbeat no eye can see. A whisper of lacquer seals the grooves, lending a texture that is at once gritty and velvet-soft. If you press it to your ear you hear the first note: a low metal hum that swells into a chorus of clashing swords, a distant horn, and a sigh that could be a memory you never owned. The lore around Track 36 speaks in fragments—the lantern-lit corridors of a ruined fort, the rush of riderless stalls at a fallen outpost, a chorus of voices that claim they heard the track before the world split apart. Some scholars swear it was pressed by a minstrel who wandered the edge of battles, while others insist it was forged to bind rival factions for a single, impossible moment of shared acknowledgement. The truth is a thread that tugs at the edge of the story, inviting you to listen and decide what the conflict really was, and who decided to press stop when the drums grew louder. In practice, the track carries you past the usual borders of sound into a kind of stage set for memory. It does not grant power in combat, but it does something rarer: it changes the way a group moves through a scene. When you activate Track 36 during a vigil, a handful of muffled snare hits echo in the air, the horn fades in and out as if the battlefield itself breathes, and the tension you felt about a looming skirmish steadies into stubborn resolve. Players use it to color a narrative moment, to heighten a tense negotiation, or to accompany a late-night trek through a fog-bound pass. It threads through story beats the world already tells—the uneasy balance between factions, the weight of old promises, the memory of battles that refuse to end. Market whispers travel through the outpost with a smile. If you swing by Saddlebag Exchange, you’ll hear it priced in a way that makes sense for a rare find—often quoted around mid-range gold, sometimes bumped higher by a few silver if a collector has claimed a moment of the track’s patience. It’s not simply a buy; it’s a passport to a room where history sits in a chair and asks you to listen, to choose how the Eternal Conflict will be remembered next. Between the notes I hear the world breathe, and I recall the faces I met along the road who carried versions of this track’s tale. Some swore it calmed a frightened guild; others said it stirred the stubborn heart of a veteran. Track 36 reminds us that memories, like battles, endure only when we listen, and choose what comes next.