What feeds legends? Hope? Ignorance? Tradition? For most people, the old tales were like spent charcoal and ash. Like an unattended fire that sputtered out and starved for lack of wood. But not for Caleb. The ancient legends burned in his ears and his heart. He set down his creaking bundle of firewood and rested against it, staring into the early morning mist towards the barely rising sun. There beyond the peak of the next hill lay the old grove, the place where the wizard's palace once stood. What would it have been like to feast with the ancient master?
The Sacred Hill Palace
The Sacred Hill Palace
The Sacred Hill Palace
What feeds legends? Hope? Ignorance? Tradition? For most people, the old tales were like spent charcoal and ash. Like an unattended fire that sputtered out and starved for lack of wood. But not for Caleb. The ancient legends burned in his ears and his heart. He set down his creaking bundle of firewood and rested against it, staring into the early morning mist towards the barely rising sun. There beyond the peak of the next hill lay the old grove, the place where the wizard's palace once stood. What would it have been like to feast with the ancient master?