Arching branches of sullen trees reach to the clouds, grasping at invisible straws to get even an inch closer to heaven. Through the darkness lay evil eyes, stalking all who dare pass by this land – merchants, travellers, peasants and kings. Fools, every last one of them. Fueled by promises of God’s riches, the twisting dirt path had been tampered upon by countless footsteps. Those who choose this route as their passageway into the Promised Lands soon find themselves besieged by whispers in the dark, disease, starvation and blight. The wills of both the brave and foolish finds itself strangled by twisted tendrils of hopelessness and despair. When one has seen the same fungus-infested trunk for the twentieth time, the same path once trodden, poison seeps into the mind and hopelessness chips the heart.
The North’s passage is terrifying indeed.