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ArtistAs I peer through the mist, I catch a glimpse of an otherworldly sight: ghostly men marching out of a time/space portal in a ruined European abbey. The abbey itself is barely standing, its walls reduced to crumbling ruins that offer little shelter from the elements. The sky is overcast, casting a gray pallor over the scene. The men emerging from the portal are dressed in ancient armor, their tattered cloaks fluttering in the wind. Some carry swords, while others hold shields or spears. Their faces are grim and set, as though they are on a mission of great importance. As they march forward, their footsteps make no sound, as if they are walking on air. Yet their presence is palpable, and I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Their eyes glow with a spectral light, and their breaths leave trails of mist in the chilly air. I watch as they move in a slow and steady procession, their eyes fixed on some distant goal. The portal they emerged from shimmers and pulsates behind them, as if ready to draw them back in at any moment.
