With solitude as our only companion, reality shifts within it’s boundaries.

Chapter IV: High Stake Hollow

Pencilstrikes, forced on the descriptive parchment of our pilgrimage. Dry sands stir up dust as our shackled boots bewander a windswept plain. The slit of our pen runs dry, yet the moist throats of our custodians crave to herald the fourth Chapter in a grim recital. And in the darkest hour before the dawn we see eye to eye, Queen of the Council.



Stand close to your nature and respect your inner self.