In the beguiling hours when twilight kisses the horizon, the Convergence draws near. A meeting place of forgotten tales, where fragments of truth linger and dance in the ether. The air thickens with whispers, tales half-told, memories not entirely yours.
Once, in a village lost to the folds of time, there existed a path no one dared tread after the day’s light faded. It twisted through groves and under moonlit canopies where the air sang songs of the ancients. Those who ventured spoke of a figure draped in a cloak spun of starlight, guiding seekers towards the heart of night itself.
As you walk this path, shadows grow longer, and the echoes of your footfalls merge with the rhythm of an unseen orchestra. You halt, your gaze drawn to a shimmering portal half-hidden in the bramble. Beyond, a carnival of distorted reflections awaits, each mirror a gateway to another truth—or untruth.