The Forest of Shrines

You awaken, quite unsure of your surroundings, in a fremd forest. You've never been here — at least, not that you can remember — and yet it seems so familiar, like a half-remembered nostalgic dream. As you walk along its ancient earthen paths, glistening leaves crunching under your feet, a fork in the road appears. Which way will you go?

A clearing in the trees.
ἈΠΌΛΛΩΝ

You stumble into a meadow of golden grass. The rising sun beckons a chorus of birdsong — perhaps audible only to you — backed by the ætheral strumming of a lyre, with no apparent source. A small house of well-preserved marble presents itself to you in the centre of the plain, glowing with the sort of ambient warmth and light that could only be fashioned in a dream.

Enter.
ἈΠΌΛΛΩΝ
Deeper inwards.
ΔΙΌΝΥΣΟΣ

You trek deeper and deeper into the forest, brushing past nettles and grape-vines, frantically manœuvring over and under stray logs... and finally, wiping the sweat from your brow, you make it into the heart of the woods. An almanac's worth of animals have gathered to watch, but none seem aggravated by your presence. At the back of this respite lies a well-worn temple whose floors glow with an inexplicable purple light, and from which an overpowering smell of wine emanates.

Enter.
ΔΙΌΝΥΣΟΣ
Faintly-heard running water.
ἙΡΜΑΦΡΌΔΙΤΟΣ

You tip-toe silently over the dirt and mud, trying to trace the source of a nearby brook. The water is clear as owt, but somehow glimmers nonetheless with splendid cerulean and violet the closer it gets to its origin. Legs covered in wounds from sharp rocks, you come across a lowly pond framed by a majestic cliff-side. As you dip your feet in, you find that our scrapes and cuts disspiate in its healing glow. You notice a peculiar grotto in the rocks— a solitary candle seems to flicker, but otherwise there is no sign of life; you deduce that the deïty of this shrine might not be well-worshipped.

Enter.
ἙΡΜΑΦΡΌΔΙΤΟΣ
🙤 Leave the forest