Master Wodin had long walked off on his own, thus, all we could do was follow, and we did. Approaching the mouth of the bridge and taking a closer look, it was weathered, a thick layer of vines, moss and leaves shielding a pitch-black jagged layer of stone.
As we began to cross, something about the bride felt familiar, and not in a good way, mifarite, again, but it was supposed to be rare, hard to manipulate. I'd stop in my tracks, and take a good look around as the clouds rolled over, leaving the place bare, everything visible.
It was then that the figures that had been consumed by the mist came into view and in all their glory. All the murals that rested below the floor were only previews, as their true glory stood on each of the six outer islands.
