Joy

There are accounts—legends you might say—of a hidden valley in the far northern reaches of the Viridian Labyrinth. Though some have attempted to map the place, any attempts to relocate it have been unsuccessful. It's almost as if the valley is not static, though whether in time or place remains to be seen. But the stories all go the same way: wandering in the mountains, a bit lost, but mostly aimless, the adventurer sees a distinctive peak, higher than the rest of the range. It appears rather suddenly, but not in a jarring way. In all the accounts, the adventurer simply supposed that it had been obscured by a cloud which must have dissipated.

Seems logical.

The adventurer feels drawn to the peak, but not desperately. It's simply a thought: "What a view there must be from that height." Though it looks steep, the path seems to have only a gentle slope when they actually traverse it. There is no feeling of urgency, only calm. Wildflowers appear along the path—yes, it is definitely a path, though how in this remote, untraveled place? The long stalks of the plants are topped with feathery purple-blue fronds, and when the adventurer stoops to smell them, the scent is lightly sweet, yet heady, and imparts a vigorous energy. In seemingly no time at all, or possibly all the time in the world, the adventurer has reached the peak. It is always twilight at this point in every story.

The adventurer stops for one vertiginous, endless moment as the valley is revealed before them. It does not plunge away, but sweeps out and downward from their feet. The sun is just dropping behind the mountain-tops, and the valley should be in shadow but for the uppermost edges. Instead, it twinkles and gleams with warm, golden lights. Incredible as it seems, there is a—well of course it's impossible, but each story is the same—there is a city here. A strange, unnatural, otherworldy city, with structures of white rock that appear almost to have been grown into buildings, houses, and temples. Ethereal golden lights are housed in crystal cages, giving an inviting glow to the surroundings. Walkways of smooth, pink stone wind amongst the buildings, and a river of clearest, pale blue runs through the center of all. It is crossed and re-crossed by gracefully arched bridges of shining glass.

Bright fish dart through the river, some bursting upward and soaring through the air before plunging back into the crystalline waters, but that is not the most startling thing in this mysterious place. All adventurers have seen fish before, and some have seen fish that fly. Flocks of shyly murmuring white clouds meander through swaths of checkered grasses, and that is odd, but it is not the thing that makes the adventurers question their own sanity. It is the inhabitants of this city that stop the breath in each adventurer's throat. It is the Dragons. The shimmering, iridescent, blue and pink dragons, each one marked with a mysterious map of golden light.

All the adventurers say that the markings are clearly a map to this place. All of them say this, and all have attempted to capture this map on parchment—to recreate it. But to date, all of them have failed.

Skeptics say it is the effect of high altitude, that the brain becomes addled without the accustomed levels of oxygen. Others say it must be an effect of the strange mountain flowers. Perhaps they are hallucinogenic in some way. But that does not explain why all of the stories are the same. And it does not explain the Gift of Treasure. For each adventurer has returned from this realm with an astonishing gift of treasure; more treasure than they can possibly carry. More treasure than they know what to do with. And not a single one of them knows how they returned.


70kT for 3
Thank you, Krysana