Having left the lush forest behind you, you find yourself near the shore of a wide and tranquil lake, rolling thickly with a calm and ethereal blue mist.... An ancient and winding path leads you from the woodland foliage, but instead of following the lakeshore, the path seems instead go directly towards the waters, its destination concealed by the impenetrable and shimmering mist.
Intrigued, you walk the path, feeling yourself enshrouded in the cool embrace of the mists, your feet seeking the path, not knowing where you will emerge, expecting at any moment to feel the sparkling waters of the lake licking at your ankles
But instead of the waters, your feet find solidity, and brush through grasses... as you press onwards, the mists thin and recede, and before you you see the otherwordly shores of Avalon... your pure heart and courage have brought you to a place of legend, of which most can only dream. Turning to see behind, you see only a veil of opaque mist, guarding this world from those unworthy
Before you, the emerald mosses and reeds slope gently uphill...there is a thick line of apple trees, ancient and knotted, their limbs heavy and nearly scraping the ground with lush fruits... they bear them year round, the apples of the Otherworld and Immortality.... Plucking a fat and shining apple and tasting of the Mysteries as you pass, you climb the rise ahead
Ahead you see a long sloping stretch of earth, called the Tor... at its crest is a circle of great standing stones, a ring of great stone monoliths standing cold and imposing, and you can sense the power surging off them as you pass... this circle is the Giants' Dance, and a place of great ritual and ceremony.
Not far from here are the small homes of the Druids and the Bards, much like the priestess'... gardens are well stocked with medicinal plants, and instruments of learning, such as compasses and maps, are spread about... from the bards can be heard sweet lingering music of harps and lutes...an occasional voice lifted in song...Ancient languages spoken cryptically, and the feeling of magick in the air...Men and women in flowing robes of green and white nod solemnly in greeting as you pass by, the path once again weaving between trees and into a dense woodland of sacred trees... Yew, hawthorn, oak, fir
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