FOLKLORE



Labyrinth

Labyrinth
Claimable. Plentiful. Volatile
Here the air is hot and cloying, clinging to a desperate facsimile of solidity. Music is made in the gentle rush of birdsong and rainfall, the omnipresent rush of river water. A counterpoint is created in the damning silence of Heaven, a mute symphony that falls abandoned and echoing in all the spaces between.

Eden lies abandoned, pristine and unbroken - but the gods are absent. Their greatest work lies empty. The darkness thrives in their absence, and the light burns brighter to spite the memory of their rule. Here, the wilds rule, for the angels have turned their face from the memory of this abandoned paradise. The lovers steal away into the Labyrinth's darkest corners, in hopes that the tangle of teeth and tongue will go unnoticed, their sins unheeded amidst the merger of mist and moss.

Verdant green has overtaken the landscape. Ferns and foliage crawl from the corners, envious and wanton; they brush the bodies of passerby, and part reluctantly for those who brave the depths. Natural paths intersect and separate at irregular intervals, trails blazed and abandoned in a single breath. Bright jewels of color mar the singularity of hue, flashes of ruby and sapphire winging through the forest’s canopy. Both water and prey languish in ample abundance, hiding amongst the roots and branches of the overarching trees.


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Labyrinth
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