The Palace of Lost Things
Picture a city, but not like any you ever saw before, a city of impossible towers and labyrinthine alleys, all choked with weeds and overgrown with the strangest of flora. There are plants that whisper secrets in yer ear as you pass by, ivy that feeds on memories and exudes the scent of forgotten dreams. The whole place is shrouded in the perpetual fog that is so common on the layer of Zenador, a mist that obscures all and twists reality into a maddening kaleidoscope of images and sensations.
You see, the lair of Zzyczesiya is a place for the misplaced, where the forgotten come to dwell, a repository of all the unwelcome memories and unpleasant knowledge cast aside by the multiverse. Imagine wandering through streets paved with the broken dreams of a thousand lost souls, through buildings constructed from the remnants of shattered hopes and the whispers of unfulfilled desires.
Now delve deeper, and you’ll find the Palace of Lost Things, a monolith of obscurity, a place where hallways twist and turn in on themselves, creating an maze of confusion and despair. It’s a place of whispers and shadows, where nothing is quite what it seems, where rooms change shape and purpose at the whims of Zzyczesiya the Ungrasped, a chaotic vortex of mystery and enigma.
Inside that palace, cutter, the fabric of reality becomes thin, and the walls between the worlds blur and fade, creating a tapestry of confusion and chaos. Rooms might shift and change with every blink of an eye, one moment a lush garden filled with extinct poisonous flowers, the next a dank dungeon echoing with the cries of the forgotten. It’s a place where time loses meaning, where past, present, and future blend and meld in a chaotic dance of the impossible.
And at the heart of this bewildering maze lies the throne room of the Ungrasped, a place so shrouded in obscurity and forgetfulness that not even the wisest of sages can describe it confidently. Rumour has it that the throne itself is a thing of living shadow, a swirling maelstrom of darkness that feeds on the fears and regrets of those who approach it, a place where the mind is laid bare and dark secrets are revealed and then forgotten, lost to the mists of time and the whirlpool of oblivion that is Zzyczesiya’s realm.
So don’t be thinkin’ you’d just stroll in there and have a chit-chat with the Ungrasped. Nay, she’s elusive, a being that exists in the gaps between moments, slipping through the cracks in reality, forever out of reach. To seek an audience with her is to venture into the unknown, to risk losing oneself in the maelstrom of chaos and confusion, to dance on the edge of the abyss and risk being swallowed by the void.
Source: Jon Winter-Holt, mimir.net
