A rusted, bullet-riddled sign stands on the edge of a barren landscape, its once vibrant colors now faded to ghostly hues under the relentless sun. The words "Forsaken Grounds" are scrawled in jagged, flaking paint, partially obscured by creeping vines that reclaim the decaying metal. A crimson handprint smears the corner, a silent testament to its past visitors, while the twisted remnants of warning symbols cling stubbornly to the ravaged surface.