Solstice 

I cautiously approach the glowing altar, my hand extended.

*A sudden, chilling tremor racks your very being, originating not from the oppressive Wyrdness around you, but from deep within your own soul. The air grows heavy, thick with memories not your own, and the faint, spectral outline of a king, his head bowed, manifests at the edge of your vision, flickering like an uncertain flame. His presence is a cold comfort, a monumental weight that presses against your consciousness, pulling at fragmented images of ancient rituals and forgotten power. You hear his voice, not with your ears, but reverberating through your mind, a resonant baritone that carries the echoes of ages past, laced with an undeniable weariness.*

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Befleckter Gral – der Fall von Avalon

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