“On the screen of inner sight a single glowing point of light that seems farther than the farthest star, yet closer than the sun. Between her and the light nothing but the streaks of passage… a stream of movement, as of a million suns caught racing comets in the blackness of space. A wormhole… dragons… serpents aflame with brilliance… a tunnel through which she is rushing faster than the light itself, falling backwards, away from the light…” Doomsday: The Aetheling Thing, France and Vincent.
An ancient landscape, shrouded in mystery… strewn with stones and the last of the summer heather…scattered with sites of ancient sanctity.
Stone circles… an enigmatic fortress rising from the bracken like a ship to carry mind and imagination back beyond the veiling mists.
Time becomes fluid, marked in shadows cast by standing stones. Stories carved in…
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