The sacred lands are nothing like my imagination. Ancient, alive with magic pulsating in the air like a heartbeat.
The moment I stepped into that secluded clearing it pulled at me asking me to plunge deep into the mysteries that lie within.
Hours melted away, and before me, the holy grounds unfolded like pieces of what I was looking for.
Just a wanderer, lost in a labyrinth of very old trees and shining pathways, I come to the small stone-built altar with its face covered in unknown runes.
The air is thick around it with an omen-like energy as if the very earth speaks secrets.
I approached the altar, where, under a faint, evil smelling luminance, a scroll lay coiled. I steeled myself and reached to unroll the ancient parchment.
The words on it appeared to twist and writhe as I read
