There is a whispering among the trees, a conversation of pale, frosty proportions. Cold stone remains silent, sleeping embedded as it is in the cradle of earthen dreams. Listen, wanderers, to the tales being told among the shadows a weary moon struggles to enlighten.
Years pass, and the spiral turns, a circle without ending. Changes encompass a world, a planet haunted most by its own esoteric creations. We are but pawns in a game so large we cannot conceive of every intricate rule, yet we seek to hear the songs of spirits greater than ourselves.
The Veil is thin, truth. And we are too humble to see through its complex dance. Those things we do not understand, we seek to mask, or to destroy in their entirety. The demons we seek to cast out were born into this world when we took our first breaths as a species. They will laugh and moan, shedding both tears and laughter, as long as this immense multi-being we term "Earth" hosts us as the blind, wriggling, greedy parasites we have become -- through our own actions.
Death shall have no dominion, for the stars beckon from beyond the great divide.