Upon winter peaks -A Journal of my life-

Stuff I wrote

Everything is gone, broken and old.
The world forgotten, the stories and legends turned to dust.
Only sometimes do you hear the cry of the lost souls in the streets of the old cities, long since abandoned and either forgotten or shunned by everyone, you are afraid of them, these gigantic constructs of glass and steel, built with machines, interwoven with magic. Writings in languages that no one knows anymore.
Now, millennia later.
Ships as tall and dark as mountains floating on water, as deep and mysterious as their builders. Mighty kinetic shields, doors secured with magic and technology, castles, entire worlds, horrifying and beautiful treasures, forgotten forever, lost.
Ancient things slumber within them, in the chambers and towers, under domes of glass as clear as water.

The people of today live far away, full of fear, in tents and huts of leather and wood as fragile as parchment against the forces of nature.

Knowledge crumbled to dust, fears fuelled by stories of the unknown.

But is it really like that?

Does danger really lurk in the gigantic halls and rooms of a bygone age?
Behind walls so high that no bird dares to fly over them?
Sure, all this is strange, so untouched by the ravages of time, full of magic and technology that no one understands.
Where do all the creatures of this world come from?

Some suspect the origin of all life behind the ancient walls, in abandoned buildings, encoded in forgotten texts.
Still others call these people stupid, just as stupid and insane as the treasure hunters who have been trying to overcome the walls for ages.

But what is right? What is wrong?

No one knows.

And maybe it's just as well.
Let them puzzle, let them ask, and maybe one day they will understand that they too are just a leaf in the wind of time.