Imagination, orchestration. New worlds explored. You are Atreyu the horse charmer, on a quest to find a cure for the Empress.
Horns in motion, violins in flight, the Ivory Tower a white lotus tiara rising out of the cracked Earth, milky smooth its surface at sunset.
Fields of gemstones, dunes of rainbows, a forest that grows by day and dies by night. Mountains of silver sculpted by eaters of rock, immobile swamps that sink the soul, gardens of mushrooms inhabited by sprites.
Hopeless is the heart that can't remember these places. Powerless is the pursuer, hindered by the destruction of their wishes.
Lost in a cavity of blinding darkness, a sliver of light appears from the clouds. An undulating scaly wyvern weaves through the cumulus, making its way to the ground. It lifts you up, into the air, lucky you, saved by a dragon aloft.
He flies you out of the storm, above and beyond it, subverting it, bending it to your will. Through the mirror it takes you, revealing your true self, the only cure available. It allows you to recreate the landscapes you lost, regain the memories you shed, to keep writing the greatest of stories, of stories within stories- a storm of stories, whirling around Nothing.
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