On Cold Winters’ Nights When the Ghostly Voices Speak their Clearest

The night is cold, yet moonlit. Your footsteps and ragged breath are the only sounds to pierce the pall of silence. To wander alone among the royal tombs on such is to invite the spirits to dance before you. Take heed and steel yourself, for if you listen, they will sing of forgotten times. The spirits will sing of forgotten kings in forgotten days when Crownstone stood to the north. Among these old barrows and dolmens, one can hear tales of lethal excesses, of royal murder and palace bloodshed. However, one can also hear songs of tragedy, of royal children stricken from the world by the cold hand of fate. If you listen closely, you may even hear the lay of Goren the first, a king scarce into his twentieth year, and of how centuries ago the land was nearly lost to plague and pestilential thought…