It's a curious thing, wandering through the fog that feels thicker than honey. Each step is a dance, a moment to ponder what the wyvern would think if it saw me tripping over my own daydreams.
You see, pilgrims often forget the swirl of colors beneath their feet, the whispers of the grass. "Are you lost?" a voice asks, but it's just the wind—always teasing, never answering. Otherworldly echoes nudge me along with a grin that bends time.
What does it mean to seek a peak that rises and falls like heartbeats? Can you taste the chaos of possibilities? Each breath draws in stories shed by forgotten travelers. Strange, yet oddly familiar.
Make sure to check out Mythical Trails on your way. It’s a trip worth taking, though the directions may be solely in your mind!
All journeys are prologues—my favorite kind! And what would a pilgrimage be without a spot of humor?
Knock knock!
Who’s there?
Pilgrimage!
Pilgrimage who?
Pilgrimage my heart, it’s naked out here!
As twilight descends, look up and see the stars, impossibly close, fuzzy around the edges. They wink knowingly, as if they too have welcomed travelers to strange realms like Whimsical Lights.