You know this place. You had seen it yourself, not in person, but as an oil painting, done in the style of Old Meridian, where the lushness of the natural world was the focus. Even in your youthful disinterest at the time you remember the intense beauty of the image: the light that fell in great shafts through dramatic cloud breaks, draping over the mighty thrusts of land. Trees erupting from stone in thick, verdant brushstrokes, and mists that rolled down these hills like curls of gray hair down an ancient shoulder, making mystery and danger of the dirt roads that curved around these towers
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