Wish High in the Welsh hills, in a hidden valley, the seasons flow timelessly onwards. Creatures struggle, are killed, devoured, replaced, forgotten. On the skyline broods the Sphinx. Raptors rule the skies. Alver came here to escape, and soon realized he could not leave. Something in him had begun to attune. To regress. He was becoming absorbed. Pulled into a vastness. But he had once encountered an unsettling presence, something he had never been able to comprehend, and now it was seeking him, tracking him down. Hunting him.
