The circle doesn’t begin nor does it end. It merely exists, a gap in the fabric of space. Here is where the rites are folded into the silence, inviting the brave. Initiation is not an entrance but a descent into the quiet. Can you feel it? The rhythm of prepared hearts beating in the endless hum along the edges of the cosmos?
Grains of time scatter, each one a moment, a decision, delving into the pathways hidden below. The elders speak in riddles, their faces obscured by veils of shadow. They draw symbols in the air, intoning the forgotten languages of our ancestors. Where will your choices lead you next? The path is flexible, breathing.
Follow the echoes, light the candles of remembrance, for the void is not empty; it is richly filled with the weight of our unfulfilled dreams. Can you see the spark beneath the surface? Hold your intent close and cross the threshold into understanding.
Listen to the Elders