Where is this place?

Where is this place? So deep a vault, dusty and dark? And so dismal a world beyond?

Ah, you are here! So we dream together again, after so long, many cycles. It is to be an adventure I warrant. Who is to be our hero this time, our face among the thousands?

This mountain man? Befollicled of feature? Bujilli... But stout of heart I sense, driven; driven from the heights to these depths by one close. And he has done well without us.

Or have we been here his whole time? His guide, as he is ours; our spirits in his step?

In from the cold the hero came, from the fall of ice. Past this concealed portal - what instinct! - placing then this vegetable matter across that gap. Gasses linger - another stranger met, and look - offspring! Trapped they are, by the oneiric. Did we enter thus?

No matter. He will be ours again, and we his. Much to risk, to gain. Ready your spirits.

In one of our cycles: tomorrow the dream waxes here.

_